


Slip

by Khashana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, First Time, Ginny gets with everybody, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Only Underage If You Use Muggle Standards, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco, pretty much everyone makes an appearance at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, Draco's fingers slipped on his wand that day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sectumsempra

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea. If some of my sentences sound suspiciously like original lines, blame my selectively eidetic memory. None of this was copied except for one line where Harry remembers something Draco said. Chapter titles match chapter titles from books. Chapter titles you don’t recognize are my own plot.

Malfoy was crying. Standing at the sink, hands gripping the edges, _crying_. Moaning Myrtle was talking to him gently.  
Then Malfoy looked up, and met his eyes in the mirror. He spun on the spot, drawing his wand—  
  
\--And fumbled and dropped it.  
  
“Accio!” The wand spun to Harry, who caught it. He looked up. Malfoy’s eyes, once creased with rage, were wide with horror and fear, and Harry thought he knew why. He, Harry, was blocking the only exit.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Harry, but it came out sounding harsh.  
  
 _“It won’t work…and unless I do it soon he says he’ll kill me,”_ Malfoy had said.  
  
“What’s Voldemort making you do?”  
  
Malfoy only gaped at him. Harry sighed. It seemed that he was going to be the one doing the talking. He decided to try being direct.  
  
“Did you give Katie Bell that cursed necklace? Or,” he amended, remembering his conversation with McGonagall, “have someone do it?” It wasn’t an either/or question. But by the way Malfoy’s knees gave out, and the way new tears tracked down his cheeks, he knew he was right. “Who are you trying to kill?” he asked, now only feeling somewhat baffled, and a little irritated, a far cry from the anger he would expect from himself. Malfoy looked as though he didn’t know whether to harden or cry more. Harry sighed again. He couldn’t waste this opportunity and let Malfoy go. But this clearly wasn’t working. He came to a decision.  
  
“Come on, then.” Malfoy looked confused. “If I have to point these at you, I will,” said Harry, indicating the wands in his right hand. Malfoy’s lips moved, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again.  
  
“Why don’t you?” He sounded utterly defeated, yet trying not to believe it. Harry rolled his eyes and crossed the room without thinking. He wrapped his left hand around Malfoy’s right wrist, careful to keep the wands out of reach, and bent to Malfoy’s level. He didn’t answer, as he wasn’t really sure what the answer was, only stared into gray eyes for a minute before standing and tugging on the wrist. Malfoy stayed obstinately on the floor. Harry rolled his eyes again and pointed the wands at Malfoy, thinking, _Levicorpus!_  
  
He nearly burst out laughing at the blonde’s squawk at being hoisted unceremoniously into the air. He didn’t look at him, only tugged at the wrist again and brought Malfoy gliding through the air beside him.  
  
“All right, all right! I’ll walk!”  
  
Harry thought, _Liberacorpus!_ and Malfoy crashed down beside him. This time, though, he got to his feet, brushing himself off and muttering under his breath. Harry kept a firm grip on his wrist, and this time when he tugged, Malfoy followed.  
  
On the walk up the headmaster’s office, Harry couldn’t help thinking that this might be the first time he had ever touched Malfoy skin-to-skin. He shook himself for having the thought, but honestly, wasn’t it a bit weird, after all these years hating each other, to be practically holding hands?  
  
They made it to Dumbledore’s office with only a couple odd looks from passers-by. Harry knocked, and Dumbledore called, “Enter.” Harry pushed open the door and dragged a now even more reluctant Malfoy. Dumbledore looked surprised.  
  
“He’s plotting something,” accused Harry by way of explanation. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
“Harry—”  
  
“No, he is!” said Harry, now annoyed. “He’s trying to kill someone.” Malfoy tried to leave again, and Harry jerked him forward and into the chair he himself usually occupied. “He attacked Katie Bell.” Malfoy’s face screwed up.  
  
“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he muttered.  
  
“Them?” It took Harry a minute to realize what Malfoy meant. Then it hit. “You poisoned Ron?” They pretended he wasn’t there.  
  
“And yet you did, precisely because you could not bear to hurt a certain someone else,” said Dumbledore gently to Malfoy.  
  
“I had hoped to postpone this conversation to a safer time, but Harry as usual is too clever and too thirsty for information to, as it were, let sleeping dragons lie. I see he has your wand. So, Draco, we must speak plainly. I know of the task you have been given by Lord Voldemort.”  
  
Malfoy’s head jerked up, and Harry’s mouth dropped open.  
  
“You _know_?” asked Malfoy incredulously. “Then why haven’t you stopped me?”  
  
“For your own safety,” Dumbledore replied. “If you refused my aid, Voldemort would almost certainly read your mind and discover that I knew of his plan, which would force him to change plans. Lord Voldemort does not enjoy changing plans, and I feared it would result in your death. Incidentally, it is usually a better idea, when one knows one’s enemy’s plans, to allow them to continue working in that path and set up measures against their succeeding, rather than alert them and have to guess at what they will do next.”  
  
“Aid?” said Malfoy. “I don’t need your help.”  
  
“Oh, but even now the consequences I have just explained to you are beginning to sink in, my boy, and you realize that you do need my help. Your choice now is simple. You can allow me and those loyal to me to hide you. We can do so completely. No one would—forgive me—be surprised that you had died in your attempt. Or, you can return to Lord Voldemort and await your fate. I very much encourage you to choose the former.”  
  
“He’ll win,” said Malfoy defiantly. “He’ll kill me for sure if he finds me.”  
  
“Your death would at least be postponed,” said Dumbledore. “And I can assure you that such a victory is not as likely as it seems. Choose life, Draco. I must admit that if you do not, I will be forced to modify your memory, which Voldemort, if he so chose, could unfortunately undo and see this entire conversation. You would also, having forgotten this discussion, continue in your path, which you now know is almost certainly doomed.”  
  
“How do you know the only thing keeping me from doing it now is that Potter has my wand?” asked Malfoy bitterly.  
  
“You are not a killer, Draco,” said Dumbledore simply. “Not insignificant either are the facts that I am much older than you, with far more spells up my sleeve, and reasonably clever. Would I risk my life on something I was not sure of? Give him back his wand, Harry.”  
  
Harry stared. Dumbledore looked at him as if to say, Do it. Harry did.  
  
“Well, then, Draco. Do you find you can murder me in cold blood?” As Draco pointed his wand at Dumbledore slowly, Harry realized what Draco’s mission had been, and stared, horrified. Draco’s wand hand shook, and his face screwed up. In a rush of movement, he dropped the wand and buried his face in his hands.  
  
“Well, Draco,” said Dumbledore, softly. “Do you accept my offer? Will you let me help you?” Draco nodded, but didn’t speak.  
  
“Very well,” said Dumbledore, standing. “I must speak with a few other people concerning this, I’m afraid. I am going to lock you in. When I return, we shall make arrangements.” He swept out, leaving Harry and Draco alone. Harry looked at Draco. The other boy’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs, and Harry hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder. Draco jumped a little, but didn’t otherwise react, and Harry slid the arm slowly around the other boy, kneeling. All at once, Draco threw himself into Harry’s arms, and Harry, startled, caught and held him as he sobbed. The strangeness threatened to overwhelm. This was about the last situation Harry had expected to be in when he’d followed Malfoy into that bathroom, but seeing him cry, seeing him point his wand at Dumbledore and drop it…what else could he do but hold him?  
  
After a few minutes, Draco quieted, but it was another minute before Harry let him go. They looked into each other’s faces. Draco’s normally pristine, pale face was blotchy and tear-streaked. Harry took his hands and squeezed.  
  
“I can’t imagine,” he said quietly, “what it must be like to turn your back on everything.”  
  
Belatedly he thought that that wasn’t quite true; he’d turned his back on everything when he left Number Four, Privet Drive with Hagrid, hadn’t he? But it wasn’t the same. He’d escaped the Dursleys, constant misery, and being treated like a dog, and followed the path he’d been heading towards from the first time he’d done accidental magic. Draco had left a life of being a prince, his parents who loved him, and his path laid out for him by his parents.  
  
Fawkes let out a low hoot, enough warning for Harry to drop Draco’s hands and stand before Dumbledore re-entered.  
  
“Myself and certain members of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Dumbledore, “agree that it would be best if we acted at once. You will be moved to a safe house, Draco. Hogwarts students and the Ministry of Magic will be informed that you made an attempt on my life just now, and were, most unfortunately, killed in the attempt, as you did not take into consideration the protective enchantments in this office. Your personal effects, unfortunately, will have to be sent back to your parents, or they will suspect. If there is anything that you do not feel your parents would miss, a house-elf will retrieve them for you now. Additionally, if there is anything I can easily replace, such as clothing, please, enlighten me, and it will be done.”  
  
Malfoy looked at him in disbelief. “I’ve been trying to kill you since the start of the year, and not only are you offering me asylum, you’re willing to replace my things?”  
  
“Common courtesy,” replied Dumbledore, smiling slightly.  
  
Draco looked at him for another second, then began to list, ticking items off on his fingers.  
  
“I’m assuming these protections of yours obliterated me, eliminating your need to produce a body?” At Dumbledore’s acquiescence, he continued. “Then I can keep anything that might have been on me. If I really had come in here to kill you, I’d have brought my Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, my Hand of Glory, and my Scarab of Anubis. As for things my parents wouldn’t miss, well, they used to go through my possessions, so the only thing they don’t actually know about is a black book in the Room of Requirement.” He flushed slightly, but continued to meet Dumbledore’s gaze. Harry, however, tensed.  
  
“That, as I’m sure you’re aware, even I can’t retrieve without knowing what to ask for,” said Dumbledore mildly. “And I’m afraid, as you are supposedly dead, I cannot allow you to retrieve it yourself. You might be seen.”  
  
“I could get it,” said Harry quickly. “If you told me what to ask the Room.” So could Dumbledore, said the voice in the back of his head that sounded like Hermione, but Harry was still eager to see just where Malfoy had been going all year. Malfoy turned an accusing eye on him.  
  
“Whatever you may or may not have just done for me, Potter, I don’t _trust_ you,” he said. “That book is private. And you can be quite the snoop when your curiosity’s piqued.”  
  
“I wouldn’t!” exclaimed Harry, though he knew the statement wasn’t without some truth.  
  
“You might lend Mr. Malfoy your Invisibility Cloak,” suggested Dumbledore.  
  
“I’d never see it again,” said Harry. “And what if he saw Crabbe and Goyle and decided to say goodbye?”  
  
“Well, then, the only solution seems to be for the two of you to share the Cloak.” Harry had the distinct impression that this had been Dumbledore’s plan all along.  
  
“Fine,” he said.  
  
He pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag. Malfoy stepped close, and he draped it over both of them. They crept down the seventh-floor corridor, and paced back and forth three times in front of the blank stretch of wall. The door appeared obediently, and Malfoy pulled it open. They stepped through, and Harry gasped. The room was as high as a cathedral, and as deep. It was filled with towering shelves, piled high with what Harry knew must be the hidden objects of generations of Hogwarts students. Sherry bottles stood in a vase near him. A Fanged Frisbee drifted lazily overhead. Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and followed Malfoy down the room. Malfoy bent down next to a black cabinet, pulling out a small black book from one of its drawers.  
  
“How do you tell this cabinet apart from all the others?” Harry asked in bewilderment.  
  
“One, it’s near the Vanishing Cabinet, which is where I work,” said Malfoy, thumbing over his shoulder without looking. Harry looked, and saw, indeed, the old Vanishing Cabinet Montague had got lost in once. “Two, I look for the oddball things on top of this particular cabinet.”  
  
Harry looked and saw a stone bust, a glittering tiara, and a fluffy pink wig.  
  
“This is where you’ve been all year?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to get in for ages to see what you were up to!”  
  
“So it was you who kept scaring Crabbe and Goyle off?” said Malfoy in surprise. “I thought you were Snape, trying to stop me or help me, I could never figure out which.”  
  
They arrived back at Dumbledore’s office, where Dumbledore and a small bag were waiting. Malfoy started at the sight of the bag, and Harry realized this was all Malfoy now owned in the world. Without thinking about it, he reached out and gave Malfoy’s hand a sharp squeeze before removing the Cloak from them both. If Malfoy started again, both Harry and Dumbledore pretended not to notice.  
  
“Are you ready, Draco?” asked Dumbledore calmly. Malfoy nodded.  
  
“Are you taking him to—” Harry tried to say “Grimmauld Place,” but couldn’t form the words.  
  
“It is always good to know that one’s charm still holds,” remarked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. He turned to Malfoy.  
  
“The former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, now a safe house and legally belonging to Harry Potter, is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. You are now bound by the Fidelius Charm. I assume you know how it works?” Malfoy nodded. “You are, therefore, duly warned that an attempt to Floo elsewhere will have severe consequences, especially since you will be completely unable to divulge the information to Lord Voldemort. He will not even be able to read your mind to find it. Do you understand me?” Again, Malfoy nodded. Dumbledore stepped briskly to the fireplace, lit a fire with a wave of his wand, and dropped a pinch of powder he drew from a small pouch into the fire. The flames roared emerald green, and Malfoy picked up the little bag. He locked eyes with Harry, wearing an unreadable expression, then stepped into the fire.  
  
“Number 12, Grimmauld Place!” he said clearly, and he was gone. After a minute, Dumbledore nodded to Fawkes, who vanished.  
  
“A message to the current residents of the house that they are not, in fact, being invaded,” he explained. “Now, I believe you know, Harry, that it must be kept secret what really happened tonight, though you may, if you wish, confide in Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. You will be widely believed to have witnessed an attempt at my murder and the death of Draco Malfoy. I believe I shall have you confined to the hospital wing tonight and discourage visitors. Trust me, Harry,” as Harry began to protest. “It is easier by far to remove oneself from confrontation then to act out trauma at the death of someone who you violently disliked. You are not so hardened as to be utterly unaffected by watching even Draco Malfoy disintegrate.”  
  
“I know what you mean, sir,” said Harry simply, and he went to the hospital wing as directed, and took a potion for dreamless sleep without complaint, for he knew that his relationship with Draco Malfoy had changed irrevocably, and he had no idea what to do with that information.  
  
Ron and Hermione came to visit him, and he gave them the basic outline of the truth after casting Muffliato upon Madame Pomfrey’s office door, but he made it sound like he’d disarmed Malfoy and taken him by force, and he didn’t mention Draco crying in his arms. Somehow, he felt that this vulnerability was for him and him alone, and that to share it would be a betrayal of Draco. A betrayal of him who until that moment had been one of the top five people Harry hated most in the world? (Voldemort was top of the list. Bellatrix, Wormtail, and Snape were also there in some order.)  
  
This highly preoccupied Harry for the next few days, and he was almost glad of the Malfoy-killed-in-front-of-him story to explain his quietness—most of the school felt sorry for him and did not ask uncomfortable questions, and Ron and Hermione and those teachers who knew the truth believed he was putting on a show for the rest of the school and did not ask uncomfortable questions either, leaving him at peace to mull over the situation and remain unsettled.


	2. Grimmauld Place

Everything came to a head that Saturday, the last Quidditch match of the season.

Harry welcomed the match as a distraction, and easily snagged the Snitch from Cho Chang. He couldn’t help feeling, though, that he might have given up the match just to see Malfoy jeering at him. He pushed the thought away. He must be going mad; he _hated_ it when Malfoy jeered at him. And they’d won the Cup, they’d won the Quidditch Cup, so there was nothing more to it. He was letting the Slytherins’ attitude get to him. They’d been heavily subdued since Malfoy’s ‘death’. Pansy Parkinson had had to stay in the hospital wing after having hysterics when she was told. Crabbe and Goyle wandered around, looking lost, and though at first they’d taken to beating up even more first years, whether to distract themselves or honour Malfoy’s memory, Harry wasn’t sure, they’d lost heart by the third day. The Slytherins as a whole were quiet, keeping much to themselves for once, and those that had shown up to the match had had barely a cheer or a boo to give. Harry hoped they were rethinking the glory of being Death Eaters.

Still, he could only take so much of the after party. He was obliged to hold the Cup and grin and shout for a few minutes; he then passed it to Ron as though handing it round to all the team to admire. Ginny ran at him and he hugged her, then went around the room and personally congratulated and complimented each member of his team. By then, his smile was feeling faker and faker, and he drew Ron and Hermione aside to whisper that he had an awful headache and was going to head up to the dorm for a bit. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, so he had no actual intention of sleeping, but it felt good to simply lie down on his four-poster, draw the curtains, and let the smile slide off his face.

It was really funny how much of a fixture in your life someone could become without you realizing it. Perhaps it was just that memory of Draco crying in his arms, the one he still hadn’t shared with anyone, but he wanted badly to visit Grimmauld Place for a few hours. Trouble was, he didn’t have any Floo Powder, even if he could have used the fire without anyone noticing, and a letter just felt ridiculous.

Dear Malfoy,  
I know we’ve hated each other for years, but I miss you. Care to be pen pals?  
Harry

Even in his head, it sounded absurd. Besides, Malfoy wasn’t supposed to be alive, so any correspondence was a risk, especially since he didn’t think anyone had warned Malfoy to write guardedly. He supposed the other boy might figure it out on his own, but what about his handwriting? Surely there would be Death Eaters who knew it. If only he knew where the other half of Sirius’ mirror was, or had some other connection to Grimmauld Place…Harry hit himself on the forehead. He wasn’t sure how well it would work, but he certainly did have a connection to Grimmauld Place. He sat up in bed.

“Kreacher!” he called softly, and with a loud crack, the elf appeared, muttering obscenities and bowing so that his nose brushed his knees.

“Yes, Master?” But before Harry could answer, another loud crack sounded and Dobby appeared.

“Does Harry Potter have another mission for Dobby and Kreacher?” squeaked the elf happily.

“No, sorry,” said Harry. “I was just hoping Kreacher could bring me news from—” He was once again thwarted by the Fidelius Charm. “Well, I can’t say the name of the place to you, Dobby. It’s charmed that way,” he added hastily, seeing Dobby’s ears droop. “The Fidelius Charm, you know what that is?” Dobby nodded. “Well, I’m not secret-keeper, but Kreacher happens to be inside the charm.”

“Well,” said Dobby, “Dobby certainly understands if Harry Potter cannot tell him, though he would rather take Harry Potter himself, but if Harry Potter orders Kreacher to take Harry Potter to this place, Kreacher can do it.”

“What, you mean Apparate?” asked Harry. “But we’re inside Hogwarts.”

“House-elves are not bound by the same rules as wizards,” pointed out Dobby. “Dobby means no disrespect, but did Harry Potter not notice how Dobby and Kreacher came to be in his bedroom?”

“Good point. Thanks a lot, Dobby,” said Harry.

“Harry Potter is most welcome,” squeaked the elf happily, “and now Dobby will go so that Harry Potter may speak the name of this secret place aloud.” He Disapparated with another crack.

“Right,” said Harry, turning his attention to Kreacher, “Kreacher, I want you to take me to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, in…the kitchen.” He didn’t particularly feel like setting off Mrs. Black.

Kreacher threw him a filthy look and took his hand. There was that awful squeezing sensation, and Harry was standing in a familiar kitchen. 

The woman standing at the stove jumped and screamed. Harry shouted too, and drew his wand. The portrait in the hallway began screaming, and thundering footsteps could be heard. Draco Malfoy burst through the door.

“It’s all right, Mother, it’s just Potter,” he said without any trace of his usual drawl. “Potter, she’s here with me.”

“Why? So she can betray us?” Harry spat, not taking his eyes off Narcissa Malfoy.

“No, because Dumbledore offered to rescue her, too, and I took him up on it,” said Malfoy.

“I am under the protection of the Fidelius Charm as well,” said Narcissa shakily.

“Dumbledore said the Dark Lord wouldn’t be surprised he’d captured and killed her, too,” said Draco.

Harry finally lowered his wand. “Sorry,” he said to Narcissa.

“So what are you doing here?’ asked Draco, casually aiming his wand behind him and shutting the curtains over Mrs. Black. The screaming stopped.

“Er,” said Harry. He still hadn’t worked out what to say.

“Miss me that much?” asked Draco, smirking a little, but there were kindness and curiosity in his eyes.

“Well…yeah,” said Harry, feeling monumentally stupid.

“Since when have you two been on speaking terms?” asked Narcissa. “I was under the impression you two hated each other.”

“Things are different now,” said Draco, not taking his eyes off Harry.

“Go upstairs then,” said Narcissa. “I have dinner to finish.”

Draco turned, and Harry followed him upstairs to the room he himself had used when staying here. Phineas Nigellus raised an eyebrow.

“The Headmaster shall be hearing about this, Potter,” he said, and stalked out of the side of the frame.

“You’re in trouble now,” said Draco, staring after the portrait.

“Why?” asked Harry, genuinely confused.

“I doubt Dumbledore will like the fact that the boy he’s trying so hard to protect has figured out how to get anywhere he pleases,” said Draco. They sat on opposite beds, facing each other. For a moment, Harry just drank in the sight of the other boy. Without his usual hate-filled expression, he was actually good-looking. Harry immediately wanted to hit himself over the head for that thought. Feeling sorry for someone was one thing, but this was ridiculous.

‘How are you?” Harry asked finally.

“I’m all right, actually,” said Draco. “Bored. And kind of lonely. But I feel…free. No one’s trying to kill me, I’m not trying to kill anyone, even my mother’s safe. I only shudder to think what Aunt Bella’s done with my things.”

“What were you trying to do?” asked Harry bluntly. Draco flinched. For the first time, he looked away.

“The Dark Lord told me to kill Dumbledore,” he said quietly. “He told me if I succeeded, it would pay for my father’s mistakes and we would sit beside him in the new era. Then he said if I refused or failed, he would be forced to kill me.”

His voice grew a little stronger as he described the connection between the Vanishing Cabinets, and Harry remembered the cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

“So that’s what you were fixing in there!” he exclaimed. “And you were talking about the _cabinet_ in Borgin & Burke’s that day!” Draco looked astonished.

“How did you know about that?” 

“Followed you,” said Harry dismissively. “So, the necklace? And Slughorn’s mead?” 

“I had Madame Rosmerta under the Imperious Curse,” admitted Draco. “She slipped Bell the package and poisoned the wine she’d sent to Slughorn when he told her it was for Dumbledore. I didn’t mean for Bell or Weasley to get hurt. I may not like them, but I didn’t want them to die. You know, the Dark Lord doesn’t hide that he kills people. And it really only recently occurred to me, this doesn’t make sense. You start murdering people trying to cleanse the wizarding race, people fight back. People who have pure blood are fighting on the other side, getting killed, and your people are dying, and Mudbloods—”

“Muggle-borns,” interrupted Harry,

“Whatever—may not have as much raw power as purebloods, but they’re as quick with a curse as anyone. And Granger out-studies everyone,” he added grudgingly. “So she can do magic even I can’t, and we’ve been purebloods for fifty generations.”

“So, war is pointless, is that it?” asked Harry. “Very introspective of you.”

“Well, Dumbledore and I had a nice long chat when he dropped by to see what I’d done that still needed undoing. And this house has a decent library. I keep having to hex things living in the corners—I don’t think you all got that far when you were cleaning—but I started reading about ancient wizarding wars to try and make some sense out of life, and that’s what I’ve come up with so far. You like it?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “except for the part where you still seem to think it’s okay to call people derogatory names.”

“We’ll see how far my philosophy’s gotten next time you visit,” said Draco drily. Then, “You are coming back?” His expression made Harry think he’d meant to phrase it differently, perhaps, “Are you coming back.”

“Do you want me to?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” admitted Draco, cheeks pinking a little. “It’s nice having real company. Tell me about Hogwarts. Do they miss me?”

“Horribly,” said Harry, and he described the Slytherins’ despondency. Draco whistled. 

“And here I didn’t think they cared. Maybe they’ll decide war is pointless, too.”

“More likely they’ll decide to avenge you,” said Harry.

“Pity is, you’re right,” agreed Draco. “And I can’t exactly show up and start preaching philosophy to them now. I don’t suppose you could do it for me?”

Harry laughed. “If I can find an opportunity, I will,” he promised.

“So who won the cup?” asked Draco.

“We did,” grinned Harry, glad for what felt like the first time that he had. It felt so good to see Draco collapse on his bed, groaning.

“Again! You live to make me second best, Potter.”

“Not true,” argued Harry, feeling somehow hurt by this. “You’re here, aren’t you? And I’m here instead of celebrating.”

“Why is that?” asked Draco curiously.

“Didn’t feel like it,” admitted Harry. “After everything…it didn’t feel right.”

“Your housemates are going to be worried about you,” said Draco. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours.”

“Blimey!” said Harry, jumping up. “They’re going to think I’ve been kidnapped!”

With a quick goodbye to Draco, he summoned Kreacher, and with a loud crack, he reappeared in his bed at Hogwarts. Another crack, and Kreacher was gone. Someone yelped, and another screamed, and the next moment four hands ripped apart the curtains.

“Where have you _been_?” asked Hermione, and

“How did you get _out_?” demanded Ron. Harry settled in for a long explanation. Ron was very jealous of Kreacher and Harry’s ability to leave the school whenever he pleased. Hermione, predictably, didn’t think he should be breaking Dumbledore’s trust like that. Harry felt a bit nettled at this.

“It’s my house,” he told Hermione, “and I’m not planning to go shouting for a house-elf every time I fancy visiting Honeydukes.”

She had to be content with that, because Harry steadfastly refused to break his promise to visit Malfoy again, despite the fact that neither Ron nor Hermione could figure out why he wanted to. He didn’t feel much like trying to explain, either, and eventually they all went to bed in a bit of a huff.


	3. Secrets and Surprises

Harry did go back twice before the exams. The first time, he found Draco pacing the length of his room. He jumped when Harry rapped on the open door.

“Merlin, you scared me, Harry.”

“What’re you doing?” Harry asked curiously, leaning against the doorframe.

“Just bored. Being indoors all the time is getting to me. And WWN* says it’s beautiful out.”

“Sirius had the same problem,” said Harry, suddenly torn between sympathy and sadness. Draco turned to look at him properly.

“Sirius Black? Didn’t he own this house?” Harry nodded, sadness taking over. It didn’t hurt as much as it had nearly a year ago, but he still missed Sirius quite a lot. Draco stared at him for a moment, then turned and plopped down on the bed, patting the space beside him.

“Come on, Potter. Spill.”

Harry took a hesitant step into the room. Malfoy gave him an insistent look, and Harry crossed the room and sat.

“Sirius was my godfather,” he began. “He was my dad’s best friend, and he…” He had never really said this out loud to anyone, because it hadn’t needed saying. “He was the closest thing to a parent I ever had.” Draco’s hand came down on the hip furthest from his reach. He jumped slightly, and Draco moved his hand a little higher. Harry spent a second trying to remember which words came next while comprehending that Draco Malfoy had one arm around his waist.

“At the Ministry last spring, Voldemort sent me a vision of Sirius being tortured at the Ministry.” He felt Draco jump at the name.

“The Dark Lord sent you a vision? How did he do that?”

Harry pointed to his scar. “Mental connection from the first time he tried to kill me.” Too late, he wondered if that was something Draco wasn’t supposed to know. Oh, well. “The vision was fake; I went to the Ministry to save Sirius, and walked into a trap. Sirius died because of me.” It felt good to say that self-deprecating sentence, one he’d felt was true ever since it had happened, and which no one would hear. No, everybody, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, the Order, everybody had insisted he should not blame himself. It didn’t stop him from doing it, though. Draco, however, did not contradict him. Instead, he pulled tighter with the arm that was holding Harry and pressed them together in a comforting hug. The heat of him and the continuing presence of his hand pervaded Harry until he felt something in his underwear twitch and broke the contact. Harry stared at his hands for a second, then, not wanting to hurt Draco’s feelings, looked at him. They locked eyes for a few seconds, then Draco smirked.

“What?” asked Harry, aggravated.

“Your hair just never lies flat,” explained Draco, reaching up to muss it still further. Harry felt his cheeks flush, and stood.

“I should get back,” he said. He could swear Draco’s eyes looked a little crestfallen, but his mouth smiled and his head nodded, and he only said, “They’ll be looking for you again before much longer.” Harry called for Kreacher, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WWN=Wizarding Wireless Network


	4. The Seer Overheard

It took him a few days, but he managed to convince himself that he was just a sex-starved sixteen-year-old boy. And the touching wasn’t weird, couldn’t be weird, not after the way he’d held Draco as he cried in Dumbledore’s office.

So he went back.

This time, he found Draco lying on his bed, staring, literally, at the ceiling. Determined to pretend that nothing was awkward, he plopped onto the bed beside Draco, said, “Scoot over,” and, when Draco did, spread out beside him. There really wasn’t enough room for both of them, do they were pressed together tightly, and Harry began to regret his choice. They didn’t talk, just lay there in companionable silence. At least until Draco apparently decided his arms hurt and unbent them from where they were clasped behind his head. Having no room for the right one, he tucked it around Harry instead, and, after a second, began to play with his hair again.

Harry realized suddenly that he’d missed the touch, and tried to think of the last time anyone had touched him with affection. He couldn’t. he scooted a little further into Draco’s armpit. Then, all at once, without warning, the hand left his hair, and one forefinger traced his cheek. Desire shot through him like a rocket, and he gasped a little as he felt a lump form in his pants. He felt Draco look down, heard as well as felt him chuckle, and with one great motion, Draco rose up and came to rest above Harry, hands and knees on either side of him. Harry couldn’t stop himself glancing down and seeing that Draco, too, had an erection. Draco reached down and kissed him firmly on the lips, then climbed off the bed and went out the door, calling, “See you soon, Potter,” as he went.

Harry lay, gasping, on the bed for a minute; then he called for Kreacher to take him back to the castle…the castle bathrooms.

When he left the bathroom five minutes later, it was to see Ron, Hermione, and Jimmy Peakes running toward him, yelling, “Harry!”

“What?” he asked irritably. They caught up to him and Jimmy thrust a piece of parchment into his hand.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, mate,” panted Ron, as Harry read the parchment.

“It’s from Dumbledore!”

“What? You don’t think—”

“Thanks, Jimmy!” said Harry hurriedly. “I’d better go see what he wants.” And he headed up to the seventh floor.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to Draco and the kiss. Did he really want Draco like that? Did Draco want him? He thought the second was likely. Draco hadn’t seemed surprised at Harry’s reaction, after all. If anything, Harry got the impression that Draco had done it on purpose. 

And why had he walked out afterwards? Not to run away, of that Harry was sure. Did Draco simply know that Harry would need to get away and think it through, and was giving him an out? It gave Harry an odd feeling to think that Draco knew him so well.

He realized with a start that he was standing outside the gargoyle, staring into space. It blinked at him. 

Harry shook himself, gave the password, and rode up the moving spiral staircase.

“Enter!” called Dumbledore when he knocked, and Harry did. He suddenly remembered the last time he had been in here. Draco, sobbing in his arms as his world collapsed around him. And, just recently, kissing him.

“You are very preoccupied, Harry. May I ask what it is that is troubling you?”

“Sorry, sir. It’s nothing,” said Harry, wrenching himself back into the present.

“On the contrary, Harry, you have quite clearly not heard I anything I have said since you entered my office. It is crucial for tonight’s mission that you be able to concentrate. I find it helpful to ‘get it off my chest’, as it is said.”

Harry thought for a second. He didn’t have to tell Dumbledore everything.

“Sir, did you ever know someone who you couldn’t be sure was your friend or enemy or—or something else?” he asked hesitantly.

“I did, in fact, experience something in my youth strikingly similar to what you describe,” said Dumbledore, and something in his voice made Harry look up.

“What happened, Sir?” asked Harry when Dumbledore volunteered no more information.

“I was forced to do battle with him and became widely known as his greatest enemy,” said Dumbledore. His voice was as calm as ever, but his eyes were sad. “However, if you take care, I very much doubt that your relationship with Mr. Malfoy will end in the same fashion. Now, Harry, are you prepared for the task ahead?”

Harry nodded, putting Draco out of his mind. He’d nearly forgotten why he was there in the first place.

“I believe I have found a Horcrux,” said Dumbledore directly, “and, Harry, if you are prepared to keep your mind on the task and to follow my instructions, I will keep my promise and allow you to accompany me.”

“I am, sir,” said Harry, straightening. “You mean it? I can come?”

“You may,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “However, Harry, it is vital that you obey my orders. You understand me, Harry? You must obey even orders such as ‘run’, ‘go back’, ‘leave me and save yourself’. If I ask you to do any of these things, you must do so without hesitation. Do I have your word, Harry?”

“But sir—”

“Your word, Harry,”

“But—”

“Harry.”

‘Yes, sir,” said Harry quietly, hoping very much it wouldn’t come to that.

“I would like you to get your Invisibility Cloak.”

“I have it here, sir,” said Harry, pulling it out of his bag.

“Very good. Please put it on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you want to review what happens directly after, go read from this point onwards in Half-Blood Prince. When you get to Harry and Dumbledore returning, come back here. I’m not retyping stuff that hasn’t changed.


	5. The Cave

Harry knew at once the Apparition had worked. The salty tang of the sea was gone, as was the crashing of waves, and, in their place, the familiar smells and sounds of Hogsmeade.

Harry opened his eyes. To his horror, Dumbledore looked even weaker than before. His face was whiter than ever.

"Stay here, sir," Harry said frantically. "I need to find Madame Pomfrey—"

"No," rasped Dumbledore. "It is Severus I need."

"All right," said Harry, distracted. He wasn't sure Dumbledore could handle another Apparition, even if he summoned Kreacher. "Just let me find someone…" The Three Broomsticks was dark, and Harry had no idea whether Madame Rosmerta lived there. Then it hit him. Dumbledore had said they were going to the Hog's Head. That was a regular bar; it probably stayed open. He darted down the street a little ways until he came within view of the sign. As he'd hoped, lights were still on. He rapped loudly on the door, yelling, "Help!" The bartender opened the door, and Harry gasped, "Dumbledore's in trouble!"

"For once?" muttered the bartender, but he followed at a run and knelt beside Dumbledore.

"Aberforth," muttered Dumbledore. "I said I would be seeing you tonight, and here you are."

"What glorious mission were you out on tonight?" snapped Aberforth. "And with a sixteen-year-old boy! Haven't you learned, Albus?"

"Harry is a remarkable boy," whispered Dumbledore. "You shall see. Now, Harry, Severus, please. Aberforth, do you have a broom…?"

"It's all right, sir," said Harry quickly. "Kreacher!"

"Very clever, Harry," said Dumbledore weakly, as Kreacher appeared with a crack, looking highly sullen.

"Yes, Master?" he said, loathing in every syllable. "Master is even getting Kreacher up in the middle of the night, now, Kreacher is not a Portkey or a broomstick."

"Kreacher," said Harry, ignoring this, "take me to the hospital—"

"Severus," interjected Dumbledore again.

"Fine. To Snape's office."

Kreacher took hold of his hand, and with an almighty crack, they were in Snape's office. Amazingly, Snape was still awake, grading papers at his desk.

"Potter!" he snapped, standing. "How dare you disturb me?" He spotted Kreacher. "Time and again I have told the headmaster not to allow you to use such a method of transport! The Dark Lord would never think to use a house-elf to enter Hogwarts, unless, Potter, he reads your mind and sees how you gambol about the countryside, no respect for the cares others take for your safety…"

Harry refused to let Snape goad him. There were more important things tonight.

"Well, speaking of Dumbledore," he said through slightly gritted teeth, "he's sick, took a potion that made him really weak, and he's in Hogsmeade, asking for you." Snape stilled. Then, oddly, he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he exhaled, and, in almost a monotone, answered,

"Lead on, then, Potter."

"Don't you need an antidote or anything?" asked Harry incredulously. He expected Snape to make some remark about his rudeness, or rattle on about how the complexities of antidotes clearly escaped him, but Snape only answered in the same monotone,

"No."

"Kreacher," said Harry, "take us back to Dumbledore." There was a crack, and Harry, Kreacher, and Snape stood facing Dumbledore and Aberforth.

Harry knelt beside Dumbledore. The old man was slumped on the ground, leaning against Aberforth, his wand still held loosely in his right hand. Harry took his wrist, trying to measure his pulse, though he'd never done such a thing before.

Dumbledore spoke. "I am weak, Severus. Please."

Snape looked at him impassively, then raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore. Harry could only say later that he simply knew what was coming. His own wand was in his back pocket. Dumbledore's was closer. He reached for it instinctively, pulling it from the old man's grasp in one motion, hatred at Snape and anger at Dumbledore for trusting him rising up in him. He was a second too late. Snape's wand remained pointed at Dumbledore as he spoke the words of the spell.

"Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green light, and Dumbledore's body went limb next to Harry's, and he shouted the first thing he could think of at Snape.

"Sectumsempra!"

Snape looked at him in shock and rage. Great slashes opened in his robes and blood ran down his hands.

Harry spared a second to be shocked, and then he was up, running after Snape, who was retreating.

"Stupefy!" yelled Harry, but Snape blocked it with a quick wave of his wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Blocked.

Mustering all his energy, Harry thought, _Levicorpus!_

Again, Snape blocked him, but this time, he spun on the spot.

"Where did you learn those spells?" he hissed. Harry continued to throw jinxes, but Snape waved them away, one by one, advancing on Harry now.

"Blocked, Potter, until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed! Now, where did you learn those spells?"

Harry knew what Snape was going to do, and he had never been able to stop it. The image of his old Potions book floated in front of his eyes. Then, it was just him and Snape again.

"How dare you use my spells?" spat Snape. "I, the Half-Blood Prince, yes, Potter, that was my book!"

"Did he know?" yelled Harry. "Did Dumbledore know you made up Dark spells when he trusted you with his life?"

"He knew more than you can imagine, Potter!" yelled Snape. "You know nothing!"

Harry got the odd sense that Snape hadn't meant to tell him that.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he yelled back. Snape made no answer, but began to retreat once more. "Coward!" shouted Harry, furious. Snape rounded and an Impediment jinx lifted Harry off his feet and sent him flying back. Again, Snape performed the jinx, and Dumbledore's wand flew from Harry's hand.

"Don't," seethed Snape, "call me coward!" With a final Impediment jinx, he blasted Harry backward to Dumbledore's feet and Disapparated.

Harry became aware of screams. Madame Rosmerta had rushed out of her shop. So she did live there, after all. Shopowners and Hogsmeade residents were coming out to see what all the fighting was about.

"We need to get back to the castle," said Aberforth hoarsely. "Wake the other teachers."

"Right," said Harry numbly. "Kreacher!" The elf appeared.

"What is it now," he muttered. "Oh, the Muggle-loving Headmaster, looks like he's dead, good riddance…"

"Never," said Harry almost calmly, "insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me." Kreacher glared at him mutely.

"Take us back to the castle," said Harry. "Outside, in front of the doors. Then rouse Professor McGonagall and bring her here. Tell her Dumbledore's dead and she needs to come with you and say nothing more to her. Understand?" Kreacher nodded sullenly. "Do it," said Harry. It passed in a blur. He, Aberforth, and Dumbledore's body were in front of the castle. Aberforth was explaining everything to Professor McGonagall, who was rousing the staff and contacting the Order of the Phoenix. Harry slipped the locket out of Dumbledore's pocket and read the note inside before being hustled into Dumbledore's office with the Heads of House, minus Snape, for whom Slughorn stood in. McGonagall needed to see his memories, to be absolutely certain, and Harry gave them willingly. He had never placed his own memories into a Pensieve before, but he found it surprisingly simple. McGonagall instructed him to simply place his wand to his temple and remember the evening, from the moment he wanted the memory to start to the moment he wanted it to end. Harry began it from the time he and Dumbledore had landed in Hogsmeade, and drew his wand away after Snape cast the spell. McGonagall did not need to know about the cave, nor the contents of his and Snape's shouting match. When he drew his wand away, a silver thread was clinging to it. He placed it in the basin, and McGonagall, followed by the other Heads of House, entered. It was a peculiar thing to watch them observe his memory. Harry could see down into the memory as though through a skylight, and the four figures move around, unseen by the actors playing out their script. McGonagall and Sprout clung to each other and wept, while Professors Flitwick and Slughorn seemed to find it their duty to stand and watch the events play out. Hagrid, who had stayed behind, sobbed loudly into his spotted handkerchief.

When they returned, there was a short discussion about the funeral, and finally, finally, McGonagall said,

"Pomona, would you take Potter to the hospital wing? He ought to rest without being badgered with questions. I've got to warn the other members—any Fidelius Charm Albus was secret-keeper for has split. Severus could inform You-Know-Who about any of them. The old Headquarters, the Jones' place—"

"Professor," said Harry at last, "You'll get everyone in—in London out safely, right? Don't let Voldemort find them."

"Of course, Potter," said McGonagall, not harshly, and Harry knew she understood him to mean "the Malfoys in Grimmauld Place."

It was a few minutes before Harry realized they were going in the wrong direction for the hospital wing.

"Professor?" he said hesitantly, and Professor Sprout jumped.

"What? Oh, Harry, so sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed—oh, hello, Sibyll." Professor Trelawney had just come up the corridor, looking more like a large insect than ever, her large eyes magnified even larger than usual by unshed tears.

"Dear boy—Pomona—such a tragedy! I have been predicting it all year!" she said shakily.

"Right. Would you mind taking Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing, Sibyll? Things to do, you know."

She shot Harry an apologizing look, and he gave her one he hoped conveyed that he understood. It was hard enough to take Professor Trelawney at the best of times, let alone when you were trying to help manage a collapsing revolution. He, on the other hand, was numb enough that he hardly cared.

Professor Trelawney wailed about foreseeing catastrophe for half the walk towards the hospital wing, and it was a few seconds before Harry tuned in to the next story she was telling him enough to realize it was interesting.

"—my first interview, Dumbledore came right up to my room, which I was very glad of, because I wasn't feeling very well that day, hadn't eaten much, and Dumbledore seemed rather sceptical of my abilities, and then—" and Harry was listening now, because he thought he knew what happened next—Professor Trelawney had made the prophecy that had changed his entire life. "—and then he rudely interrupted us!"

"Who?"

"Professor Snape, dear boy, haven't you been listening? The bartender opened the door, and he was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs. Well, after that, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and at the time I thought he appreciated the difference between myself and the young man prepared to listen at keyholes, but if I'd only foreseen what he was capable of! Listening at keyholes was quite a minor evil compared to tonight. Harry?"

For Harry had stopped walking and they were now twelve feet apart. Snape was the one who had overheard the prophecy. Snape was the one who had reported it back to Voldemort and started the manhunt that had resulted in Lily and James' death. And Dumbledore had trusted him? After the way Snape had hated James, and Harry had heard him calling his mother Mudblood. Betrayal crashed over him, breaking through the numbness and letting in other emotions, like disappointment, outrage, fear, and grief, and he was aware of sinking to the floor, of laughing until he cried, of sobbing until something warm was forced down his throat, and he slept.


	6. The White Tomb

Ron and Hermione came to visit him the next day, and he told them the whole story. When he described how Dumbledore had been killed, Hermione covered her face with both hands, and when he explained who the Half-Blood Prince had been, Ron looked shocked.

Madame Pomfrey didn't let Harry out of bed until the day of the funeral, much to his protest. She only muttered things like "emotional trauma" and "nervous collapse." All in all, he was almost glad when the day of the funeral came. When it was over, and the truth of Dumbledore's death had really sunk in, he slipped away from the crowd and walked along the forest by himself, dodging the eye of the Minister of Magic. He could see Lupin watching him from a distance, but he was fine with the Order keeping an eye on him as long as they didn't talk to him.

"Hey, Harry!" a voice hissed. Harry recognized it, and his heart skipped a beat. A hand took his and led him a little farther into the forest, just far enough not to be seen. Still, Harry couldn't risk it. He sat, patting the ground next to him, and felt the invisible person sit down beside him. He pulled out his cloak and draped it over them, and only then did he say, "Take the charm off." Draco Malfoy inactivated his Disillusionment Charm and smiled at Harry, who smiled back.

"I told McGonagall to get you out," he said. "Apparently bad things happen when a Secret-Keeper dies."

"Yeah, everyone who knew the secret becomes a secret-keeper," said Draco. "You, me, and Snape."

"No wonder they evacuated," said Harry. "He could just walk in with Voldemort." Draco flinched.

"When are you going to say his name?" asked Harry.

"V-Voldemort," said Draco, and his voice only quavered a little. They sat in silence for a minute.

"What are you going to do now?" Harry asked.

"Work for the Order," answered the blonde. "I'm seventeen. I can, if I want."

"Wow," said Harry, impressed. "How did you go from murderous to completely changing sides in the space of a couple weeks?"

Draco blushed. "I'll tell you after we both survive this war," he muttered.

"Deal," said Harry. That blush was making him want to do unmentionable things to Draco. He settled for running a hand down his cheek, and, when Draco blushed deeper, climbing into his lap to kiss him. All his worry and confusion was gone, and his path seemed ridiculously simple now: 1. Enjoy the moment as long as he could. 2. Visit Godric's Hollow. 3. Destroy the other Horcruxes. 4. Kill Voldemort.

For now, he stayed on step 1 and let himself melt into the kiss, absorbing every possible ounce of pure Draco.

"Harry?" called the worried voice of Lupin. With a sigh, Harry broke the kiss and scooted out from under the cloak.

"I'm here," he called back, and Lupin and Tonks came into view.

"Harry, there you are," said Lupin, sounding relieved. "Don't go vanishing like that."

"Who you been kissing, Harry?" asked Tonks. Her hair was black for the occasion. "You got Ginny hidden under that Cloak of yours somewhere? Or Cho Chang?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry, without changing expression. Tonks and Lupin looked confused, then Tonks marched up, hands outstretched, and tripped into Malfoy, who was still sitting on the ground. She pulled up the head of the cloak and peered into it, causing part of her face to disappear.

"Well, hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said, nonplussed. "You been seducing our Harry?"

"Quite the other way around," Draco's disembodied voice answered. Lupin's eyebrows came dangerously close to disappearing.

Tonks emerged and glared at Lupin. "If Harry Potter can love someone who tried to commit murder, why can't I love a werewolf?" she asked angrily.

"It's not the same," said Lupin, covering his eyes as though exhausted. "They are both young and strong and whole and have years ahead of them."

"Not true!" said Tonks, now almost crying. "They've been marked for death if Voldemort ever gets his hands on either of them. They've both been through the worst evil and back again. I'd hardly call them whole."

Harry realized the meaning behind Tonks' mousy hair, her changed Patronus. It was not Sirius she'd fallen in love with.

"Love's not about being whole, Mr. Lupin," said Draco unexpectedly, still invisible. "Look at Harry's hands. But I don't care. He's worth fighting for, that's all I know."

Did Draco really just say he loved Harry?

Lupin gave Tonks a funny look and they left without saying anything. Harry picked up the edge of the cloak and slipped back under. He stared into Draco's eyes, but couldn't be sure what they held. There were no words, so he reached out and kissed Draco again, this time softly, sweetly, lovingly. Then he did what he had to.

"This is it, you know," he said. "Today. It's all we have." Draco nodded. He already knew.

"And then you're going to go off and fight the—Voldemort, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "I have to." He wished Draco could come with him, but he could never ask that. Draco seemed to read his mind.

"I'd offer to come," he said, "but as you can't tell me what you're doing, I think I'd be more help to you on my own. And Weasley and Granger wouldn't like it."

"Who says they're coming?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Draco, sounding exasperated. "Of course they'll come. No matter how many chances you give them to back out, because they still don't get it." Harry sighed.

"Got any ideas on how to fix that?"

"Sorry," said Draco, now sounding almost amused. "You're stuck with them. Don't knock good friends."

It was getting dark, and their time was up. "Meet you back here after we win," Harry told him.

"Deal," whispered Draco. They sealed the promise with a fast kiss, and then Draco replaced his Disillusionment Charm and Harry slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak. He needed to find Ron and Hermione.


	7. The Dark Lord Ascending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, this is the most annoying part of writing canon-compliant Drarry. So little of Deathly Hallows depends on Harry and Draco's status, unless he travels with them, and I have to say it's always been the Golden Trio and for the sake of parallelism, it should always be the Golden Trio, with Draco an important but separate part of Harry's life, as he's always been. For those readers who would rather see Ron and Hermione leave and have Harry off hunting Horcruxes with Draco, well, if I get inspired and can think how to do it, I may write that for you separately. But for now, my aim is to prove the story could have been just as good and parallel and symbolic with H/D instead of H/G. So bear with me. I'm not retyping the whole book. This is the point at which you may want to pull out Deathly Hallows and read alongside.

The Dark Lord Ascending

Lucius Malfoy could not quite believe his ears. After all that had been done to his family, the Dark Lord now requested his wand. He looked up and down the table for support, but there was none. His wife, his son, both dead. His former friends, now afraid to seem kind to him. He handed it over, answered the questions about its make. It did not occur to him, as less and less that the Dark Lord did had of late, that he would not be permitted a wand in the meantime. His hand twitched. The Dark Lord saw, laughed, taunted.

"Lucius, Lucius. I have given you your freedom. You may walk the earth at liberty, as your poor wife and son do not. Our position today came at a heavy price for you, Lucius. I have noticed. But the time for grief has done. Put on a smile, Lucius, for did you not say there could be no cost too high for my rise to power?"

"Yes, my lord," muttered Lucius.

Bellatrix leaned forward from beside her brother-in-law, her heavily lidded eyes shining with passion.

"You are here, my Lord, in the house of our family. It is the greatest honour, incomparable to all else!"

"Incomparable?" repeated Voldemort.

"My lord knows I speak the truth!" gloated Bellatrix.

"Incomparable even to the honour you must be feeling from the events of this past week?"

Bellatrix frowned. "My lord?"

"Your sister, Bellatrix. Her daughter, your niece, has just married the werewolf. How…honoured you must be."

Howls of derision shook the room; the Death Eaters were delighted at Bellatrix and Lucius' shame. Bellatrix's eyes flashed with furious humiliation.

"I have no sister," she spat.

"Oh, but you do," replied Voldemort. "One cannot simply ignore one's family. That would be like ignoring the importance of blood."

The room went quiet.

"We must purify our blood when it becomes tainted, must we not?"

Bellatrix glowed again. "Immediately, my lord!"

"At the first opportunity, you shall strike," commanded Voldemort. Bellatrix bowed her head in acquiescence.

Lucius tuned out the voices, hearing the Dark Lord introduce the woman hanging above the table. She taught at Hogwarts…Draco ought to be in his final year at Hogwarts…and then, with a wave of his wand, she was dead. Just like his son. Who had loved Charity Burbage? Whose daughter, whose wife had she been, until she was snuffed out like a candle?


	8. In Memoriam/The Seven Potters

In Memoriam/The Seven Potters

Harry reread the article about Dumbledore. It seemed to him now he had missed invaluable chances to ask Dumbledore about himself. He had only attempted to do so twice. The first time was also the only time he believed Dumbledore may have answered a question untruthfully. The other time had been right before he and Dumbledore had left to face Dumbledore's death. The question had been driven out of his mind in the aftermath, but he was now almost sure that Dumbledore was talking about Grindelwald. He had spoken as though his relationship with Grindelwald was akin to Harry's relationship with Draco. But surely he hadn't meant all of it? He couldn't have foreseen the exact path his and Draco's relationship would take.

And Aberforth! Surely there weren't two people who knew Dumbledore, both named Aberforth? For Harry knew Aberforth was the bartender at the Hog's Head. Had Dumbledore really died in the arms of his brother? He replayed their brief conversation in his head.

What had it meant? For once? Had Dumbledore never been in trouble? And "haven't you learned"? Learned what?

Harry stood back and allowed twelve people to pass him. Then he turned to look at the thirteenth.

Draco Malfoy shot him a snarky grin. Unable to stop himself, Harry stepped forward and threw his arms around Draco, who squeezed him tightly.

"I missed you, too, Potter," he whispered so only Harry could hear.

"Get under cover, Potter!" snapped Moody. "You too, Malfoy!" They entered, and Harry closed the door behind him.

"How'd you get them to trust you?" Harry asked Draco.

"Dumbledore trusted him," snapped Moody, "and he took Veritaserum."

"You gave—" Harry began indignantly, but Draco squeezed his arm.

"I volunteered," he said quietly. "I wanted them to know I was for real."

Harry wanted to kiss Draco, but he didn't think he dared with Moody, Ron, and Hermione all there.

He hadn't told them yet, because he was fairly sure he knew what their reactions would be. Bewilderment, fear for his sanity, reminders that there were antidotes to Veritaserum, and that Dumbledore had also trusted Snape. And that was just for Malfoy himself. He actually had no idea how they would react to the idea of two men being in a relationship. But what was that relationship? He wasn't dating Draco, really, nor were they even, strictly speaking, together. So what was he supposed to say? He didn't particularly want to describe their afternoons together. That felt private somehow.

Those thoughts pressed again on his mind, only half listening as Moody explained the plan.

He was just figured out a giant hole in the plan—had Moody just said there were seven safehouses, but they were all heading to one?—when Moody barked, "Fake Potters line up over here, please," and Ron, Hermione, Draco, Fleur, Fred, and George all lined up next to the sink.

"Some of your hair, please, Potter," said Moody, uncorking the flask of muddy brown liquid. Harry figured out the rest of the plan.

"No," he said loudly. "No, I won't let you do it!"

"I told him you'd take it like this," said Hermione, folding her arms.

"I won't let you all risk your lives for me!"

"Yeah, 'cause it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.

"But this is different, pretending to be me," protested Harry. This was Ron and Hermione, this was Draco, this was Fleur and the twins, who were not quite at the same level, but of whom he was fond nevertheless.

"Everyone here's overage, Potter," snapped Moody.

"You can't do it if I don't agree," said Harry stubbornly. "You need my hair."

"Oh, there's that plan down the drain," said George.

"Yeah, thirteen against one? We don't stand a chance," agreed Fred.

"Ouch!" said Harry, and whirled to see Draco striding toward Moody with a few black hairs in his hand. For a second, Draco turned and met Harry's eyes, asking approval. For all he'd taken Harry's hair, Harry knew without knowing how that if Draco read betrayal in his eyes, he'd drop it and pretend to have lost it. He blinked his reluctant acquiescence, and Draco handed the hair to Moody, who grunted, "Much obliged," and dropped it in. Harry's potion turned gold.

It was very strange to see six copies of himself changing clothes. He thought he spotted Malfoy checking the contents of his underwear. And then they were off.

Back at the Burrow, Harry stared up at the sky, searching it for some sign of a broomstick or thestral. Where was Draco? Ron? Mad-eye, Bill, Fleur, Tonks? Finally, finally, a broomstick popped into midair. Arthur and Fred Weasley, both pale and stricken, leapt off it.

"George," said Mr. Weasley. "Where's George?" Harry pointed into the kitchen, and followed Mr. Weasley and Fred in. They gathered round the sofa.

"How is he?" he asked Mrs. Weasley. He felt a bit remiss for not having asked earlier.

"He'll live," she said grimly. "It could have been worse. He could have been—but I can't repair it."

"Is someone else back?" asked Ginny.

"Hermione and Kingsley," answered Harry.

Hermione was still outside, waiting for Ron, he realized bleakly. He ought to be there too, to wait for Draco and Ron. He wandered out again to join Lupin, Kingsley, Hermione, and Hagrid. They made an odd tableau—Hagrid, huge and hairy, Lupin, worn and greying, Kingsley, with his earring, and Hermione, looking almost frail surrounded by men taller and more muscled than she. Harry heard someone follow him, but did not look around to see who it was. After a minute, she came into view, and he realized it was Ginny. Seconds became minutes. Minutes seemed to become hours. Hours might well have become days, and then a broom popped into existence above them, then another. Tonks threw herself into Lupin's arms, and Hermione flung her arms around Ron, but Harry's eyes were drawn to Draco, who was windswept, but flushed with exhilaration. He didn't remember crossing the yard, but then Draco was holding him, whispering, "I'm all right," for no one but Harry to hear. Mad-eye cleared his throat, and Harry let go. Then, he had to dart out of the way for an incoming thestral from which Bill and Fleur stepped.

"All back safely?" asked Bill breathlessly.

"All back," replied Lupin. "George lost an ear." Looking grim, Bill rushed inside. Now that everyone was back, the rest of the little group in the yard followed him.

Everyone, it seemed, had simply been held up by the Death Eaters, though Tonks had had particular trouble from Bellatrix. Ron, it turned out, had landed several hits, and Draco had put up a shield that saved Mad-eye from a nasty blow.

"Right, right," said Mad-eye gruffly, "We've all done excellently. Now, would someone like to tell me how the Death Eaters knew we were moving Potter tonight?"

Silence.

"Someone betrayed us," said Ron.

"No, that's what I thought at first, too," answered Lupin. "But they didn't know there would be seven Potters. That confused them the moment they arrived. Why tell them the date without revealing the key point of the plan?"

"Someone must have let eet sleep," declared Fleur. "To an outsider."

"That thief Mundungus," suggested Fred.

"But if you'll remember, Fred, it was Mundungus who suggested the decoys," said Mr. Weasley.

"No," said Harry. Everyone stared at him. 'If someone let something slip, it was an accident. I trust all of you. Nobody in this room would hand me over." Lupin gave him an odd look, one that was slightly condescending.

"You think I'm an idiot," stated Harry. Lupin started to answer, but Draco cut him off.

"Harry's right, we can't start pointing fingers. I can see several of you shooting me dirty looks, and I get that I'm at the bottom of your trust list right now. I can't give you any more proof than I have. So there's really no point discussing it any more."

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, standing, "It's been a long night, and several of you are still wearing clothes to fit Harry. Why don't we turn in?"

"I like Mrs. Weasley's suggestion," said Draco.

The grownups began to disperse somewhat, and Draco pulled Harry aside.

"I know what you're thinking," he said in an undertone, "and no. You're staying here."

"What?" said Harry, flummoxed. How could anybody guess exactly what he was considering?

"You want to scurry off so you won't put anybody in danger. Well, guess what, some of us think you're worth the risk. And that's our decision to make. Besides, you're still sixteen. So do the seemingly selfish thing for once, will you?" He left without an answer, leaving Harry gaping. Ron and Hermione came up in his wake.

"What'd Malfoy say to you?" asked Ron, staring after. "Git…"

"No, no, I heard," said Hermione, watching Harry with a concerned expression. "Harry, you aren't thinking of leaving?"

The realization that Draco, after truly knowing him for less than a year, understood him better than Ron and Hermione was not a pleasant one. He rubbed a hand absentmindedly over his now-aching scar.

"Leaving? What?" said Ron, but Hermione was a step ahead.

"Does your scar hurt?"

"Need some fresh air," muttered Harry; the pain was getting worse. He ducked out from their arms and slipped outside, leaning against the back of the broom shed as the pain mounted. All at once, it overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue vision scene. Also, in case you were confused about the missing bit in the middle, it's the chase scene with the Death Eaters that doesn't change.


	9. The Will of Albus Dumbledore

The Will of Albus Dumbledore

Harry was frustrated by the complete lack of moving toward his goal of hunting Horcruxes over the next few days. But, as Ron pointed out, reinforcing Draco's words, he wasn't seventeen yet, and could still be tracked by magic. He did still wish he could have avoided Mrs. Weasley's attempt to guilt, reason with, or coerce him into staying. He felt badly about having to refuse to consider her opinion or even explain the situation, but nothing could be done.

He regretted it even more when he realized that the vast amount of chores Mrs. Weasley set him and everyone else in the house kept him, Ron, and Hermione apart, so they could not even begin to plan. It took him three days to notice this, as Mrs. Weasley kept placing him with Draco, and sometimes with Ginny, too. He was not sure if he was grateful or not for Ginny's occasional presence, for when he and Draco were alone together, Draco flirted with him incessantly, brushing their hands together and playing footsie under tables, and only let up somewhat in other people's presence. It was something of an adrenaline rush every time for Harry, who very much enjoyed this feeling of being the main focus of someone's attention because of himself and not simply because Voldemort kept trying to kill him. However, as he laid forks on the dinner table, mentioning to Draco in an offhand way that he'd hardly seen his best friends, he caught on. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I'm stunned you haven't noticed. It's obvious. If you can't plan, you can't leave."

"That's exactly what she's doing," agreed Ginny, bringing in a plate of rolls.

"I know it doesn't accomplish anything in the long run, but you have to give her credit for trying," said Draco. Harry raised and lowered his own eyebrows in exasperated agreement and rolled his eyes. Harry noticed Ginny watching them with something odd in her expression, but dismissed it as Mrs. Weasley returned.

Harry woke on the morning of his birthday to find that although Ron was still there, Draco had left. (Ron had been grumpy about sharing a room with Draco, but had gotten over it eventually.) He pushed away the disappointment, and celebrated being allowed to use magic by making things fly around the room. Ron gave him a book called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, which he found rather amusing, considering the circumstances, and when he got downstairs, he found more waiting with all of his favourite people.

"I'll take them," said Draco, gracefully removing the pile of presents from Hermione's arms. "I want to give Harry my present, anyway." Curious, Harry followed him back up to the room the three were sharing. Draco set the presents on the floor, then turned to grin at Harry, who felt his heartrate go up a few notches. It skipped a beat when Draco locked the door by magic. Draco crossed to him swiftly, and simply looked at him for a moment. Harry stared into his eyes, trying to memorize every detail.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said without thinking, then blushed and tried to look away, but Draco held him still and smiled gently.

"I think you're beautiful, too." He kissed Harry gently. It was a sweet, slow kiss, a kind they'd never had before. Harry thought he tasted something like sunshine would, and he wanted to get to know all the different ways he could kiss Draco Malfoy.

Draco pulled him close and hugged him tightly. "I feel like it's too soon to say this," he whispered, "but if I don't, you're going to get yourself killed and I'll always regret not telling you."

"What?" Harry whispered back.

"I think I might love you, Harry. At least, love you someday." Harry's breath caught.

"You don't have to say it back," said Draco quickly. "I know what could happen. I just wanted you to know." Harry reached up and carded a hand through Draco's hair, hoping his eyes conveyed everything he couldn't put into words.

"So, is that my birthday present? A hug, a kiss, and a declaration of maybe love?" Draco flashed him a wicked grin.

"No, this is your present." He kissed Harry in earnest, licking his way past Harry's lips and tracing the outline of his gums. Then, he became to remove Harry's shirt, and Harry realized what he had in mind. It was abruptly hard to breathe.

"Draco, someone will come looking for us," he gasped between kisses.

"No, they won't. It's been arranged." Draco stopped suddenly. "Or are you trying to get out of this without hurting my feelings? Harry, just say the word and we'll stop." In answer, Harry began to undress Draco. It was a very strange feeling to be undoing someone else's pants, and even more so to have someone else undoing his. Naked but for their boxers, they ran their hands over each others' bodies and kissed. Draco ran a line of kisses down Harry's neck, then pushed him onto the bed.

"Ow!"

"What?"

Harry retrieved Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches from beneath the bedclothes.

"What's that?" asked Draco.

"Birthday present," said Harry. He looked at Draco and grinned. "Don't much think I'll be needing it, though." Draco kissed him again. After a little more groping on the bed, Harry found the courage to tug at the waistline of Draco's boxers. Draco kicked them off the rest of the way. At the sight of Draco's bare erection, his own strained all the more tightly. Draco threw him another wicked grin and stripped him of both his glasses and his boxers. His face was so close, though, that Harry could still see him clearly. Fingers stroked him gently and he arched his back with pleasure.

"Ready?" Draco whispered, and Harry nodded.

Later, Harry smiled at Draco in a haze of post-coital bliss.

"Happy birthday," said Draco, smiling back.

"Don't tell anyone, but I think this might just be my favourite birthday present," said Harry. "Why is no one coming to look for us, again?"

"Set it up with Ginny. That's her present to you. She says to tell you Happy Birthday." Harry was very impressed with this distraction, though he never could figure out exactly what Ginny had done, except that it involved Filibuster's Fireworks, garden gnomes running amok, the kitchen stove threatening to explode, and Mrs. Weasley being quite thankful they were all right. Harry caught Hermione giving him a funny look, but other than that, the only indicator he got that anyone besides himself and Draco knew what they'd been up to was Ginny raising her eyebrows at him. He gave her a subtle thumbs up when Hermione wasn't looking, and she cracked a grin.

He caught her alone later.

"Just wanted to say thanks for my birthday present," he said, grinning.

"Oh, it was fun," she replied. "Got me out of chores, as well. How was it? Or should I say, how is he?"

"I don't remember details being part of the bargain," said Draco, coming up behind Harry and looping his arms around Harry's waist.

"How long have you two been plotting?" asked Harry.

"Since yesterday," said Ginny.

"Yesterday?" yelped Harry. "How did you get all that planned by yesterday?"

"Oh, I'd had the plot all done anyway, just a couple things I came up with in my spare time. But the actual timing, that was yesterday. Draco and I had a frank talk after dinner which included my feelings and intentions toward you, Draco's feelings and intentions toward you, and the fact neither of us had a decent birthday present for you."

"So what are your feelings and intentions toward me, respectively?" asked Harry curiously.

"That's for us to know, and you to wonder about for the rest of your life," replied Ginny, and left.

"She's lying about having got over you years ago," said Draco contemplatively.

"Oi! If she wanted to tell me the contents of your discussion, she would have!" said Harry, for this sounded like an extreme violation of privacy. He twisted round to glare at Draco.

"She didn't say that!" said Draco, holding up his hands defensively. "She said she was over you, I'm saying she's lying. But she's being a good sport about it, and she acknowledges I got you first, and she really does want you to be happy. She probably thinks we're cute together, too," he added as an afterthought. "Boys screwing boys is emotional porn to girls."

"Where'd you get all that?" said Harry, slightly irritated.

"Girls just have a knack for it," said Draco, shrugging.

"You're a guy," said Harry pointedly. "I'm certain of it, now if I wasn't before."

"I'm gay," said Draco, just as pointedly. "It's the same thing in this case." He, too, left.

The word had hit Harry hard. It was actually the first time he'd ever heard Draco use the word to describe himself. He, Harry, had never used it out loud to describe himself He was fairly sure it fit, but ever since the conversation with Dumbledore, he'd more or less operated by the philosophy that if it felt right, it was good. He hadn't thought much about whether he liked boys in general or boys and girls, or if Draco was the only one. Oh, well, he didn't have to pick a label, right? Still. He wondered what it would feel like to use it.

"I'm gay," he said out loud.

"Just figured that out?" said an amused voice behind him. He spun around.

"Hermione!"

"I mean, you vanished up to the bedrooms together and promptly a lot of very suspicious things happened. You were having sex, right?" He blushed. "I knew it!" she said, grinning. "It's okay, Harry. Your secret is safe with me. He really does seem like he's changed."

"You were the one who kept telling me I was off my rocker for visiting him before," said Harry, still somewhat aggravated and defensive.

"Well, then he ended up here after they emptied Grimmauld Place," said Hermione, "and we three were here together for five days before you showed up. He was unfailingly polite, which really threw Ron for a loop—" They both laughed. "—and he apologized formally for being an ass. I don't know what you've done to him, Harry, but it's a wonderful improvement." He stared at her, a bit speechless. She smiled, patted him on the shoulder, turned, and left.


	10. A Place to Hide/The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

A Place to Hide/The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

Then all hell broke loose, and there was no more time for discussions of Draco Malfoy or Harry's sexuality. A day didn't go by that Harry didn't think of him, though, wondering where he was, whose side he was on, whether he was fighting. He saw a vision their first day at Grimmauld Place of Lucius Malfoy being forced to torture Rowle for letting them escape. Seeing through Voldemort's eyes, he saw what Voldemort could not: Remorse, disgust, and anguish, so different from the joy he would have expected. Perhaps Lucius was feeling the loss of his family that he could not know were safe? It made Harry think of what he had not told Ron earlier as Ron fretted about his family—that he was just as worried, that one of those most precious to him was now an unknown quantity—but it was, for him, Draco. Lucius, his own father, believed him dead. Here, thought Harry, was proof that Lucius had loved his son. Voldemort was, as usual, forgetting what love could do. He was starting to sound like Dumbledore, he thought.

He was somewhat disabused of that notion some months later, as he finished the chapter of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore and looked at Hermione. She gave him a frightened look and pulled the book from his unresisting fingers.

"Harry," she began, but he cut her off.

"I knew. The whole time, I put two and two together and got four, but there was another two staring me in the face the whole time."

"You knew he was friends with Grindelwald?" she asked, shocked.

"The night he died, he told me that he had a friend who he ended up being known as the enemy of, and I figured it had to be Grindelwald, but I never thought about all the stuff Grindelwald was into. It never even occurred to me that Dumbledore might have been in on it."

"He said friend? Harry, are you sure?"

"I asked him if he'd ever known someone that he didn't know was friend, enemy, or…more, and he said yes. I asked him how it turned out, and he said they ended up being famous as enemies, or something."

"But if he wasn't sure whether they were friends or enemies all along…"

"Did you read the letter, Hermione? Besides, it wasn't like that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry was quiet for a moment, then he muttered, "The last thing he said was, 'I doubt your relationship with Mr. Malfoy will have the same ending' or some bloody thing."

Hermione gasped a little. "Dumbledore and Grindelwald…were lovers?"

"I don't know!" said Harry. "I don't know if Dumbledore even knew about me and Draco. We weren't even together yet then. And even if Dumbledore was into Grindelwald like that, who knows if Grindelwald felt the same way?"

"It would explain a lot if Dumbledore loved him," said Hermione, glancing down at the book. "This had to be a century or something ago—I doubt even wizards would have been very accepting of them. Imagine being fresh out of Hogwarts and meeting someone. You're desperately attracted to him, even fall in love with him, but you can't tell anyone, even him, so you just try to hang around him as much as you can, contributing to his ideas, helping him plan his dream."

"It's still no excuse," said Harry, angry again. "He's talking about stomping on Muggles like they're animals."

"I know, I know, it's just like Magic is Might, but he was young, Harry, young and in love."

"So we think!" Harry shot back. "He was our age, Hermione. Seventeen. And what are we doing, running around risking our lives to stop this kind of thing, no clue where Draco or—the person you're going to end up with is." He didn't look at her. He'd come so close to mentioning Ron again, but Hermione didn't need reminding that the boy she loved had abandoned them. Too late. When he chanced a glance at Hermione, she was blinking back tears. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she beat him to it.

"Do you love Draco?"

He started to answer, stopped, thought about the question, and finally said, "I don't know."

"Fact is, Dumbledore spent most of his life fighting the Dark Arts," said Hermione briskly, and Harry got the impression she was trying to say everything on her mind before she lost control. "Night, Harry."

She re-entered the tent, and Harry wanted to go after her, comfort her, but he was supposed to be keeping watch, and, well, if she wanted to hide her tears from him, he supposed that was her right.

It just added to the list of things Dumbledore hadn't told him, though. Granted, there had been no good time to mention this last, but he would have liked to have heard from Dumbledore himself that they had both fumbled with their first romantic feelings for another boy, and at about the same time. And Aberforth, Harry had even met Aberforth, several times, and never had Dumbledore mentioned that his brother worked in a bar just down the street. Harry had nearly as hard a time reconciling the Aberforth of the Hog's Head with the Aberforth who flung dung at neighbours as he had with all these interpretations of Dumbledore. Aberforth would know the truth. Harry felt a sudden burning desire to go to Hogsmeade and ask Aberforth about Grindelwald, Kendra, and Ariana. But he admitted to himself, when Hermione finally came for her shift, that he was afraid of the answers.


	11. The Silver Doe/The Deathly Hallows/Malfoy Manor/The Wandmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Silver Doe/The Deathly Hallows/Malfoy Manor/The Wandmaker
> 
> This begins right after Ron shows up. In the book, Harry says he considers Hermione to be a sister and didn't realize Ron was worried they were in love.

He got one answer not long after, when Ron reappeared and they destroyed the locket.

"Hermione's my sister," he said quietly. And then it came, easily and without a struggle. "I love Draco." That got Ron to look at him, incredulous.

"You…and Malfoy?" When Harry only nodded, "So that's what it was. There was always something weird about you when you talked about him." Harry flinched. "Not weird," Ron amended hastily. "Different, I guess."

"I thought you'd tell me I was an idiot to trust him," said Harry, hardly daring to be relieved. He'd expected Ron to swear, to tell Harry he was mental, to list all the reasons it was a bad idea.

"Your life," said Ron philosophically. "And he really has been decent lately. And he took Veritaserum. And, well, frankly, I'm just happy you're not in love with Hermione."

"Yeah, don't tell her I said that, okay?" said Harry. "I mean I haven't even said it to him yet, and he shouldn't be the last to know." Ron smiled at him and stood.

Long after they had all gone to bed and were pretending to sleep, Harry thought about what he'd said. I love Draco…And he did, though he didn't know how he knew. And he longed to see those gray eyes again, longed to run his hands through that blonde hair and down that beautiful body…

Ron brought with him the wizarding wireless, and a new burst of hope in the show Potterwatch. Lee was just signing off when they heard a loud crack and a few shouts over the radio. There was a, "What's going on?" from Lee. They all leaned in, desperate to hear.

"They haven't been caught," said Hermione breathlessly, her hands over her mouth.

Then, Lee was back on. "Sorry for scaring any listeners, but before we sign off, another of our contributors has just arrived, and I think we can squeeze him in. Over to you, Ridgeback, but keep it short."

"Thanks, River," came yet another familiar voice, but Harry was the only one who gasped,

"Draco!" He half noticed Ron and Hermione sharing a knowing look behind his back.

"As usual, the unclassified updates on the movements of the Order of the Phoenix. One member has successfully moved four Muggle-born families to the Continent…"

Harry only registered that Draco had, indeed, updated his philosophy to include using the word Muggle-born instead of Mudblood, and then he just listened to his voice until they signed off.

The Snatchers dumped Harry and the others on the ground outside Malfoy Manor.

"Who dares to disturb my house?' Lucius Malfoy's voice could have been cold and commanding, but it lacked its usual command, and broke on the last word.

"We've got Potter!" roared Greyback again. Lucius focused on Harry, who looked quickly away from the fuzzy blonde blur. It reminded him of Draco.

"Where?" said Lucius, honestly puzzled, and Harry felt a flash of pride for Hermione's hexing skills. Greyback forced Harry's chin up so Lucius could see Harry's face.

Lucius peered more closely, and Harry felt a finger outline, but not touch, his scar. He bit down hard to keep from shouting nonetheless.

"The scar…" murmured Lucius.

"And 'ere's 'is wand!" Scabior presented the blackthorn wand. Lucius took it.

"Bring him in," he said.

Harry, along with the others, was pushed through the door. Harry caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. His face was swollen so as to more resemble Dudley's, his scar stretched to a thin line. His glasses were alarmingly bent to stay on his face. Furthermore, his hair had grown out and he was beginning to grow facial hair.

"It's 'im, no doubt," said Greyback proudly, though Harry rather disagreed with him on the 'no doubt' part.

"It might be," answered Lucius. "Why is he like this?"

"Wasn't us," grumped a Snatcher.

"Stinging Hex, I expect," said another.

"He's Potter!" roared Greyback. "And we'll be wanting our money."

"You'll have it when I am convinced!" said Lucius, regaining some of his former charisma. "Bella, darling!"

Harry's stomach curled under itself as a voice he knew too well called back,

"What is it?" as though impatient at being disturbed.

"They say they've got Potter!" answered Lucius.

Footsteps, and Bellatrix burst into the room.

"Potter?" she exclaimed. "Where?" Her eyes lit upon Harry. "Can it be?" she approached, then stopped suddenly.

"It is! It must be, for that is the Mudblood Granger, is it not? And beside her, the Weasley boy? You recognize them from the Ministry, Lucius?"

"Indeed," said Lucius, now excited. "Then it must be him. I shall summon the Dark Lord—"

"No!" howled Bellatrix suddenly. "Do not!"

She had spotted the sword. There was a brief tussle, and she had it. A whispered conference with Lucius, and the prisoners were taken to the dungeons.

It was just Harry's brand of luck that they didn't stay there long. When Bellatrix touched the Mark, chaos exploded. Harry was struggling to keep in his right mind. Ron was attacking Bellatrix, who had an unconscious Hermione.

And a figure appeared out of nothing in the dining room and cursed Bellatrix from the back. Harry spent a wild moment trying to place the unfamiliar face, the shaggy brown hair, as the figure stopped and gathered up Hermione, while Harry disarmed Lucius.

"How did you get in?' shouted Lucius, seemingly hysterical. "My wards—"

"Are charmed to let me through, Father!" shouted the man, crossing the room with Hermione in tow, stopping to grab Griphook fireman-style as well. A crack, and Dobby reappeared.

"Dobby has come back for Master Harry!" he said.

But Harry was looking at the strange man, and although he didn't recognize the features, he knew the grin being directed his way.

"Hello, Draco," he said.

"Hi, Harry. Hello, Dobby. Good to see you again."

"Master Draco?" squeaked the elf, clearly floored.

"No!" yelled Ron, grabbing Harry, Draco, and Dobby at once and turning on the spot, As they Disapparated, Harry caught sight of Bellatrix, revived by a Snatcher, throwing her little silver knife, and Voldemort appearing a few feet away.

They fell to the ground in a tangle. Harry carefully extracted himself from the tangle of limbs.

"Everyone all right? Is this Shell Cottage?"

"Should be," said Ron. "Where's Hermione? Draco?"

"Here," said Draco, but his voice was flat. Harry and Ron spun, half expecting to see a dying Hermione, but Draco had deposited his bundles on the ground and was kneeling in front of Dobby, whose back was to Harry.

"I am so sorry, Dobby," he said quietly. "For everything."

"Master Draco is apologizing to Dobby?" asked the elf in amazement.

"Yeah, I am," said Draco, and his voice broke. "Harry, come here." Dobby turned, and Harry saw the silver hilt protruding from his chest and the dark stain spreading over the front of Dobby's pillowcase. He took a huge stride forward and caught the elf as he fell.

"No," he muttered. "Dobby, no. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to come back for us."

"Dobby is a free elf and will always save Harry Potter and his friends," muttered the elf.

"Someone help!" yelled Harry, gazing around desperately.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Draco, tears coursing down his cheeks.

"No!" shouted Harry. "Dobby, no, don't die, please."

"Harry," whispered the elf, "Potter…" And he gave a great exhalation and was still.

He was aware of Draco gripping his hand on one side and Ron resting a hand on his shoulder on the other, and Hermione stirring from where she was propped in Ron's lap, and dimly he appreciated their efforts to let him know he was not alone.

Then Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean were coming up to them, lifting Hermione and Griphook and leading Ron and Draco with them. Dean made to approach Harry, but Ron, Draco, and Luna all shook their heads, and Harry was left alone long enough to pull the blade from Dobby's chest and cover him with his own blanket, long enough to decide what to do. Ron, Dean, and Draco returned and wordlessly helped him dig the grave.

The others showed up at the end, and Luna spoke a few words. Ron and Dean expressed their thanks, but Harry could only muster a goodbye.

"I'm sorry for the way my family treated you," said Draco at last, tears streaming down his face once again. He made no attempt to hide them.

"The way I treated you. I'm sorry I never got a chance to really talk to you after I realized how wrong I was. I'm glad Harry freed you. I'm sorry I stopped to talk to him. If we'd left a second earlier, you wouldn't have died. But I'm glad I got to say goodbye in person." When they'd left him alone once more, Harry found a big, flat stone, and laid it across the place where Dobby's head was. Taking out Lucius Malfoy's wand from his pocket, he aimed it at the stone and began to carve. How beautifully ironic it was that the master's wand should bend to mark the slave's grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff I get to do in this AU was super poetic stuff that JK couldn't pull off in her plotline, and this is the best. Lucius Malfoy's wand marks Dobby's grave. Draco apologizes to Dobby.
> 
> Also, I'm very proud that Draco fits so nicely into the R Potterwatch naming convention! Draco = Dragon = Norwegian Ridgeback = hey look, an R name.


	12. The Calm Before the Storm

Draco, not needing recuperation, didn't stay more than a day—he told Harry he felt awkward taking up space and food when Bill and Fleur's hospitality was already so taxed with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and those they'd rescued from the Malfoy dungeon. Before he left, though, he pulled Harry aside.

They hadn't said anything at all to each other at first. Draco stared into Harry's eyes for a moment, then kissed him, as desperately as a man dying of thirst might draw water from a well. There was nothing soft about it, and Harry kissed him back just as hard. There was something he was supposed to say, but Draco's kissing was making it difficult to string two thoughts together. Then, Draco broke the kiss.

"Remember your promise," he said. "We meet in the Forbidden Forest when this is all over."

"That could be years from now," Harry protested.

"Nah," Draco disagreed. 'None of us can take this much longer, on either side. Do us a favour, Harry? Kill him before he can kill you."

'Planning on it," Harry replied. Draco smiled.

"That's my Chosen One. Now, I should go. The Order needs me."

He went out to the front yard. It was only after Harry watched him Disapparate that he remembered what he'd meant to tell Draco. He'd forgotten to tell him he loved him.

He hardly had time to worry about it after they left, though—escaping from Gringott's turned out to be the end of their luck regarding Voldemort's ignorance of their schemes.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, we probably can't Apparate into Hogwarts," added Ron wisely.

"No," said Harry, making up his mind. "We'll go and talk to Aberforth. Find out what's going on at Hogwarts, if there're any ways to get in."

"All right," said Hermione, looking scared but standing and packing up determinedly, "but we're Apparating under the Invisibility Cloak."


	13. The Missing Mirror/The Lost Diadem/The Sacking of Severus Snape/The Battle of Hogwarts

They materialized, and for a second, Harry thought it was safe. Then a shrieking split the air, a horrible, reverberating sound. Through it, Harry heard shouts. He felt Hermione try to Disapparate again, but it was impossible. He pulled her with him, Ron on her other side, in the direction of the Hog's Head, which was just across the street—Hermione's Apparition had been extremely accurate.

Ron pulled on the door. "Locked," he muttered. But before any of them could do anything, a low voice inside said, "Alohomora!" and opened it for them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped past the figure standing inside, still under the cloak. Aberforth closed the door again and turned to look at them.

"Hello, Potter. We meet again."

The next twenty minutes were as painful as Harry had feared when it had first occurred to him that Aberforth would have the answers to his questions. But at the end of it, he understood. Now, at last, the nuggets of truth from which Rita Skeeter had spun her lies, were revealed. Albus and Aberforth's last conversation made sense. It seemed Aberforth was thinking of this event, as well, for when he had finished his tirade and found Harry still resolutely clinging to the path he'd chosen digging Dobby's grave, before speaking to Ariana's portrait and sending them on the last leg of their journey, Harry caught a murmured, "Albus was right about you."

And then it was a whirlwind, and Harry had no time to stop and think until he was racing through the corridors with Luna, under the Invisibility Cloak and stopped to check the Map by torchlight.

"Someone's following us," gasped Harry, and then the name next to the dot barrelling after them sank in and he gasped.

"Draco?"

"Harry?" He had turned up behind them, not under Polyjuice this time, looking every bit as beautiful as Harry had remembered. Harry pulled him under the Cloak.

"Hello," he said, trying not to grin as he tugged Draco along with them, "What are you doing here?"

"Got a tipoff," said Draco, showing Harry a small coin.

"How did you get one of those?" asked Harry.

"I think it's Marietta Edgecomb's old one," said Luna vaguely. "Hello, Draco."

"Hi, Luna. Good to see you again."

It was all the conversation they had time for, before dodging a ghost and arriving at Ravenclaw Tower.

Inside, they discovered Alecto Carrow, and then her brother Amycus and Professor McGonagall. Luna pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, revealing herself and Draco, who wandered over to examine Rowena Ravenclaw's statue. Harry noticed Draco frown at the statue, but paid little attention to his boyfriend until he had to hold him down ten minutes later as McGonagall confronted Snape. Harry had forgotten how close Draco and Snape had been, how much more reason Draco had to hate the former Potions teacher.

Then Professor McGonagall attacked, and Harry let go. Draco slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak. Harry tried to follow, but an enchanted flaming torch flew at Luna's head, forcing him to shove her away.

"Draco," whispered Snape, staggered enough for one of McGonagall's hexes to reach through and set fire to the bottom of his robes. Harry was strongly reminded of Hermione in their first year.

Snape turned and ran, still firing hexes and curses behind him, and McGonagall and Draco, followed closely by Harry and Luna, followed. Snape rounded a corner and disappeared into an empty classroom. There was a crash, and Draco let out a wordless yell of fury as he burst in after. Harry followed, and saw the broken window.

"He's gone," said Draco bitterly, and pointed. He looked at Harry with all his frustration and sadness written on his face, and Harry reached for his hand and squeezed it.

Professors Slughorn, Flitwick, and Sprout arrived on the scene, but Harry paid little attention to them. He was busy staring into Draco's eyes, admiring the beautiful boy he loved and was so proud of.

The boy he loved.

He was struck with indecision for a moment—it was always a risk, those three little words, but he gathered his Gryffindor courage and opened his mouth—

Draco beat him to the use of it and kissed him, hard.

Just as suddenly, he broke off.

"I've seen that bloody diadem before, Harry," he said, running his hands through his hair and making it stand on end. He whirled, and Harry noticed that they were alone except for Professor Flitwick.

"Professor, what do you know about the diadem of Ravenclaw?" he asked.

"The diadem of Ravenclaw? What in Merlin's name could you possibly want with that now, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Please, just tell me if you've ever seen it, Professor."

"Seen it? Mr. Malfoy, no one alive has ever seen the diadem." Draco frowned.

"I know I've seen it," he said to Harry. "If I can just figure out where…"

"Shall we go get Ron and Hermione?" Harry offered. "If you remember, we might need their help finding it." He was excited now; if Draco had seen the diadem, there was hope.

"Yeah, all right," said Draco, and they set off in silence. Harry was torn between telling Draco his revelation, and distracting him, or letting him think. The need to find the Horcrux won him over, and then he nearly walked into Draco as he stopped.

"That painting has always reminded me of your Nearly Headless Nick," said Draco, and Harry realized he was staring at Sir Cadougan.

"No one alive!" Draco yelped suddenly.

"Come again?" said Harry, recovering from the minor heart attack the outburst had given him.

"Go and find Ron and Hermione and meet me back in the Great Hall," said Draco, and pelted down a side corridor. Perplexed, Harry decided to do as he said and returned to the Room of Requirement, where he found Lupin and most of the Weasleys—but not Ron and Hermione.

He returned to the Great Hall empty-handed, but almost immediately spotted Draco talking to a ghost. He looked utterly frustrated.

"No Slytherin needs his cunning advanced and his ambition enabled," the ghost, a young woman, was saying.

"I don't want to wear it!" Draco seethed. He noticed Harry.

"Harry! This is Helena Ravenclaw, and I know she knows about the diadem, but she won't tell me!"

"We're trying to defeat Voldemort!" said Harry, instantly sharing in Draco's frustration.

"A Slytherin and a Gryffindor working together? A Slytherin attempting to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Her tone was one of disbelief.

"But Draco is fighting with us," said a dreamy voice. Luna and Justin Finch-Fletchley stood behind them.

"Harry saved my life once," said Justin, "and if he says Malfoy's a good guy, I'm inclined to believe him."

"Ironic, when I was the one who endangered it," said Draco drily.

"Eh, you were twelve. People change. And I was talking about the whole getting Petrified thing, but whatever." He reached out a hand, and Draco shook it.

"Look, that's someone from every house," said Luna. "And we're all fighting to take down Voldemort. So if you have something to tell Draco, tell him." She pulled Justin away, presumably to join one of the groups going out to fight.

"Never has there been such house unity," murmured Helena. "And I remember nearly back to the beginning." And then she told them a story that made all the pieces finally fit together.


	14. The Battle of Hogwarts/The Elder Wand

"That still doesn't tell us where it is," said Draco, and together they thought, moving through the castle at random. Hagrid appeared, shoved through the window by Grawp, and still Harry thought, until they turned a corner and finally found Ron and Hermione.

"What are those?" asked Draco, staring at the objects they carried, at the same time as Harry demanded to know where they had been.

"Chamber of Secrets," said Ron, and

"Basilisk venom," said Hermione, and Harry figured it out. Ron explained how he'd faked Parseltongue to get in, and that Hermione had stabbed the cup—apparently having decided that they could speak freely in front of Draco, despite, or possibly because of his baffled expression—and ended with, "What's everyone doing?"

"Fighting," said Harry. "Except for Ginny. She's in the Room of Requirement."

"I bet she hates that," said Draco almost fondly. "She told me over the summer she wished Voldemort was still in her diary, since he was easy enough for you to defeat then—" He broke off, a stunned expression on his face. "Diary…" he repeated, then, "Room of Requirement..." then, finally, "I know where I've seen that diadem before. I spent half of last year staring at it, and I never knew what it was."

Harry pieced together "Room of Requirement" with "Diary" and "half of last year" and remembered.

"Come on," he said, but Ron interrupted him about house-elves, and very suddenly he and Hermione were kissing.

"Finally!" said Draco, staring at them.

"Well, yeah," said Harry, "but there is a war on!" He said the last part a bit loudly, and Ron broke off long enough to say,

"Oh, shut up and tell Malfoy, Harry. You might not get another chance."

"Tell me what?" asked Draco quietly, and Harry stared into his eyes and saw worry and fear and couldn't not obey.

"I love you," he said quietly, and the wonder that lit Draco's face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You mean it?" whispered Draco, and at Harry's "Yes," he closed the gap between them, and they were kissing, too.

It wasn't their first kiss, as it was Ron and Hermione's, but Harry was convinced it was every bit as magical.

This kiss was not a test, or a loss of control. It wasn't a hesitant, careful kiss of discovery. It wasn't a lustful kiss, a mere prelude. It was an expression of joy, of love and adoration, of a happiness that could neither be restrained nor expressed with words.

Draco broke it off at last to say, "I love you, too. In case that wasn't clear." Harry grinned at him.

Just then, a spell hit, so powerful and so close that the floor shook and the couples clutched at each other to keep from falling.

"Where did you say the diadem was?" said Ron shakily, and then they were running, pelting up stairs to the seventh floor, and fetching out Ginny, and Draco was pacing up and down in front of the wall, and they were in.

"Whoa," said Ron. "What is this place?"

"The Room of Hidden Things," said Draco. "Look for a cabinet with a stone bust, a wig, and a tiara on it."

He led them toward the old Vanishing Cabinet, and they spread out slightly, searching.

"People must have been hiding things in here for ages," said Hermione.

"He thought he was the only one," said Harry.

"Got it!" said Draco, holding up the tiara. "Where are those fangs?"

Hermione, who was closest, held one out. "You should stab it," she said.

Draco looked perplexed. "Why?"

"It just seems right. Harry had the diary, I did the goblet, and Ron did the locket."

"You realize I have no idea what you're talking about," said Draco.

"We wouldn't have known about the diadem at all if you hadn't done some things you're not proud of," said Harry quietly.

Draco locked eyes with him, nodded, and accepted the basilisk fang from Hermione. He placed the diadem back on the cabinet, raised the fang, and plunged it into the heart of the diadem. Harry thought he heard a faint scream. Then it disintegrated.

"Right," said Harry. "Let's get out of—"

"Oy. Not s'fast," grunted a voice from behind them. Draco's eyes widened.

"Crabbe," he said. "Goyle. Zabini."

Harry and the others whirled.

"Now, everyone," said Blaise Zabini from where he stood with his wand trained on them, "I'd like you to drop your wands and come with us. Mudblood, you can put those fang things down. And Draco, that crown. Even if you are supposed to be dead."

"Ah, well," said Draco airily, setting the diadem back on the cabinet, "Potter did it, the Dark Lord did it, I thought I'd give resurrection a try."

"Don't give me that. We're your best mates. What really happened?" Harry realized with a start that Zabini cared about Draco. Maybe not in the same way that he did, but this exchange reminded him of a particularly Slytherin-ized version of one of his reunions with Ron and Hermione. He thought of the misery after Draco's 'death'.

"I realized that I had a choice," said Draco quietly, and while Harry could see Ron and Hermione exchanging looks out of the corner of his eye, he understood.

"I could either die at sixteen in service to the Dark Lord, or hide, leave everything, and fight for my own life. So far, it's turning out to be the safer bet. I'm almost eighteen, now."

For a second, it looked as though Zabini would chuckle, though Crabbe and Goyle just looked blank. Then his face hardened.

"Drop your wands. You're all coming with us."

"Stupefy!" yelled Harry, and threw himself to the ground to avoid the answering fire. He came up on one knee and fired again, pointing his wand at Crabbe again, who'd avoided the first shot by being dragged out of the way by Zabini.

"Reducto!" yelled Crabbe before Harry could fire, and Harry spared a moment to be incredulous that Crabbe would use a Blasting Curse in a duel. Then he realized that Crabbe had hit one of the teetering stacks and blown a hole in its base. He scrambled to avoid being crushed as the stack toppled between them, cutting him off from the others. He looked frantically for a way around it. Shouts echoed around him as the others continued to fight. Then, a scream. He looked up, and gasped.

Huge, towering flames bore down upon him. He gave up trying to rejoin the duel, and ran for his life.

The fire was no ordinary fire. It followed Harry where he ran, gaping after him with quite literal jaws of flame. Creatures formed out of it and danced high above Harry's head. Then, he spotted something, and his heart leaped. Broomsticks. There were only two, and he grabbed them, mounting one and kicking off while clutching the other tightly. Ducking a flaming dragon, he rose above the fire, scanning for signs of life.

There! Ron was pelting down a corridor created by two collapsed stacks, a look of terror on his face. Harry leaned low and caught up to him easily, throwing him the other broom. Ron snatched it, looked around, spotted Harry, and mounted the broom, rocketing up to fly level with Harry.

"Where's Hermione?" he shouted.

"Don't know!"

They turned and flew in opposite directions. Harry flew as low as he dared, searching for signs of life.

"HELP!" Draco's voice echoed throughout the room, magically magnified. Harry whipped around and followed it, diving beneath the hungry flames. Draco and Goyle had climbed one of the giant cupboards and were balanced precariously on top.

"Get on!" he yelled, and grabbed Draco's hand. Draco vaulted onto the back like a Seeker, and Harry dipped lower for Goyle to follow. "Get on!" he repeated. Goyle gave them a stupid look, and Draco reached for his hand, tugging him onto the broom behind them. Getting it, Goyle climbed on behind Draco, and Harry soared up and away.

He peered around, blinking tears from the smoke, desperate for a glimpse of Ron and Hermione.

"They're behind us," shouted Draco, reading his mind as usual. Harry heard Ron shout something that sounded irritated, and aimed for the door with a sigh of relief.

They tumbled off the broom into the blessedly cool corridor. Harry scooted out of the way, expecting Ron and Hermione to be right behind him, but they didn't come.

"I thought you said they were behind us?" he asked, his voice somewhat shrill.

"Stopped for som'thin'," grunted Goyle, who was dusting himself off. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry from behind.

"Give them a minute," he whispered. Harry peered through the door at the still-raging flames until—

"There!" Ron and Hermione were shooting straight for them, holding between them on their broom an unconscious Zabini. Harry turned around in Draco's embrace and hugged him back as they stepped out of the way again. The overladen broom crashed to the ground, and Harry slammed the door shut.

"Zabini!" said Draco, kneeling and reviving his old friend. Zabini blinked and looked confused.

"What happened? Where's Crabbe?"

"He's dead. And we just saved your life, you worthless moron," said Ron harshly.

"You and Potter," said Goyle suddenly.  
Ron and Hermione looked confused, no doubt trying to find a way to link Goyle's sentence to Ron's, but Draco understood.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Me and Potter. Mad, eh?"

"Is that why—" began Zabini, but Draco cut him off.

"Blaise. Voldemort is not going to win this war. And even if he did, he wouldn't reward you. You would be worse off than dogs under his rule. Help us."

"Are you mad?" said Blaise. "Potter's Imperiused you."

"Look at how many people are dying!" said Draco. "Pure-bloods, Muggle-borns, half-bloods. How is this helping anybody?"

Just then, shouts reached them from down the hall. Harry swore and stood. He caught the last words of their conversation before battle broke out.

"You didn't answer the first question."

A sigh.

"Yes."

"Thought so."

And then they were fighting with the Weasleys against Pius Thicknesse and another Death Eater. They won, but an explosion hit, sending avalanches of stone down on them, and when Harry struggled free, Draco, Zabini, and Goyle had disappeared, and Fred Weasley was dead.

The path made itself simple again. He had to get the snake. He had to get the snake and end it, to avenge Fred and find Draco again. He found Voldemort's mind and looked inside.

"Do not lie to me, Lucius. You wish to find your son, although he is a traitor to our noble cause. Now that you know he is alive, every other thought has been driven from your mind. Be careful, Lucius, lest you make a mistake the Dark Lord cannot forgive." His voice was cool and slick, long pale fingers gently massaging the Elder Wand. "No, Lucius, I will not allow you to enter the battle. I have a different task for you. Bring me Snape."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever thought about who destroyed which Horcruxes?
> 
> Dumbledore, the protector = ring
> 
> Harry, the hero, the spirit = diary
> 
> Ron, the sulphur, the body = locket
> 
> Hermione, the mercury, the mind = goblet
> 
> Neville, the heir = snake
> 
> Voldemort, the enemy = Harry
> 
> And the diadem was destroyed by the Fiendfyre, which was set by the Slytherins. So diadem = Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, although unintentionally. So it made sense for Draco to stab the diadem. And I always thought it was a bit of a waste that Ron and Hermione got all those fangs and never used them.


	15. The Prince's Tale/The Forest Again/King's Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I flatly (roundly?) refuse to rewrite or paraphrase The Prince's Tale or The Forest Again. The Forest Again especially is the most perfect piece of writing I have ever seen, beyond the first chapter of A Tale of Two Cities, the first chapter of A Christmas Carol, the entirety of Will Grayson, Will Grayson, the script of Battlestar Galactica…
> 
> Consider this a chance to re-read those two chapters very slowly and marvel over the phrasing. Or not. All I'm going to write here is the few sentences that would change in Slip-verse. And I'll throw in King's Cross, because it's so short.

…Lupin and Tonks…His only consolation was that he could not yet see Draco among the dead, but it was little comfort…

…The young Snape reminded him so much of Draco, a young boy who'd made mistakes and been ready to pay the highest price, and he realized, as though a mist of clarity had descended upon the room, that he knew why Draco fought on their side. Draco was more like Snape than he knew. The blush when Harry had asked him why he had changed sides, the evasive answer, and the conversation with Zabini, which until now had not fully registered in his consciousness…

Draco was fighting because of Harry. Just as Snape had followed Voldemort until it cost him Lily, and then fought, not for the rights of Muggle-borns, not for Dumbledore, but for her memory, Draco had tried to kill Dumbledore until Harry saved him, and then joined the army trying to protect Harry….

…He wished it was not Ginny there but Draco, wanted to tell him that he understood, but Draco was nowhere to be seen, and yet he was glad, because the thought of Draco, too, lying still on the ground might be too much, might break through this numb determination. Even the thought of it slowed his footsteps until he heard a voice in the distance calling, "Thomas! Not that way! Upstairs, Malfoy's organizing…" The voice trailed off, but the promise that Draco was alive was enough to restart Harry's feet…

…Lucius Malfoy was cowering there, dirty and dishevelled, and Harry thought of Draco, and the way he always knew what Harry was thinking, and the feel of Draco's lips and hands as Voldemort raised his wand…

…"Did you love him?" asked Harry suddenly.

"Gellert?" said Dumbledore, and Harry realized it was the first time he had heard Dumbledore refer to Grindelwald by his first name. "Oh, yes, Harry, more than I knew it was possible to love another man. I never told him, of course. That would have been the end of our partnership. And then, when Ariana died, it didn't matter anymore."

"So, you did know what Draco and I were becoming," said Harry. "Or you guessed."

Dumbledore smiled. "I am delighted to see how well your relationship with young Draco has turned out," he said.

"I think my parents are, too," said Harry. "And Sirius and Lupin. Not a lot of people get that chance to ask all their dead relatives if they approve of their boyfriend."

"No, indeed," agreed Dumbledore….


	16. The Flaw in the Plan

Harry woke to find himself on the forest floor.

He was alive.

For a moment, he felt only clear shock, and then something like joy and something like determination.

He waited for Voldemort to do something, and he did not disappoint, sending someone to see if Harry was dead.

Here came the first test.

Harry held still as a man's hands fell on his face. Surprisingly long hair brushed his chin, and he tried to think of which Death Eaters had long hair. Greyback, but this man didn't smell enough to be Greyback…The man pulled back one of Harry's eyelids, and he had no choice but to look.

It was Lucius Malfoy. Long, unkempt blonde hair the same colour as Draco's hid them from Voldemort's gaze.

"Draco and Narcissa?" whispered Lucius, barely making a sound. "Are they alive?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, hardly moving his lips.

Lucius' eyes closed briefly in seeming relief, and he sat up.

"He is dead, my Lord," he said in an odd mix of grovelling and his old imperious tone.

Voldemort laughed, and nearby Harry recognized Bellatrix's voice joining in. Voldemort swooped over Harry, gloating.

The second test.

Voldemort cast the Cruciatus upon Harry, but the pain did not come. Huge arms lifted him gently from the forest floor. Hagrid was crying.

The third test.

Harry made himself lie still, for Hagrid could not know. Hagrid did not check for a pulse, for a breath himself, but took Lucius' word as truth. He felt the cold of the dementors. They were passing through the trees then.

The fourth test.

But the feeling, the joyous, determined feeling, acted as a Patronus to Harry, as though his parents, Lupin and Sirius had truly become part of him. The dementors could not affect him. They approached the castle. Voldemort called to the fighters to come out and see Harry's body for themselves, taunting them with lies.

The fifth test.

Professor McGonagall's voice tore at Harry's resolve, and those of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny drove it right to the edge. Panic gripped him. What did it mean, that he couldn't hear Draco's voice amongst the rest? Could he be dead, after all? Or was he simply so paralyzed with horror that he could not even scream? Harry's eyes opened a crack almost without his permission, but he was not angled correctly to scan the crowd. He could see a figure standing forward, declaring his defiance, as Voldemort cackled. It was Neville.

Harry knew then that had Voldemort hunted Neville instead of him, marked Neville instead, that Neville would have been as good or better as the Chosen One. He wondered if the Sorting Hat was telling Neville that it had been right to put him in Gryffindor, a fact he knew many people, including Neville himself, had wondered about. And Neville proved it in the next instant by drawing the Sword of Gryffindor from the hat.

Harry was moving, unable to bear this injustice to the man who had led Hogwarts during its worst year yet, but Neville was fending for himself admirably, and so Harry moved invisibly through the crowd, shooting jinxes and curses wherever he met Death Eaters.

Reinforcements were pouring up from Hogsmeade, centaurs, goblins, house-elves, friends and family and shopkeepers, Madame Rosmerta, the witch who drove the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express, and, heading them all, Narcissa Malfoy, hair down around her shoulders and screaming wordlessly.

Bellatrix's Killing Curse shot past Ginny's left side, six inches from her heart, and Harry was buffeted to the side by an enraged Molly Weasley. His attention was diverted by a glimpse of Draco, and his heart soared—Draco was alive! His elation turned to terror as Greyback swiped at Draco, missing his face but catching his hair and pinning him to the wall. He reached to cast a Shield Charm between Draco and Greyback, but suddenly he heard a voice shout, "Confringo!" from behind him, and Greyback exploded.

"Mum!" shouted Draco, and Narcissa ran to enfold him in her arms. Lucius joined them a second later, looking rather baffled but overjoyed.

Almost simultaneously, Molly's curse shot beneath Bellatrix's wand arm, and Bellatrix fell to the ground with a final thud. Voldemort roared with fury, and everyone in the room suddenly froze except Harry.

"Lucius," said Voldemort softly. "How touching. Your wife and son are filthy blood traitors and deserving of death, but they live, and that fact alone has caused you to turn from me? And you." He turned to Molly and raised his wand. "Who should I destroy first?"

"Protego!" roared Harry, and a shield expanded in the middle of the room, separating him and Voldemort from everyone else in the room. He ripped off his Invisibility Cloak, and ignored the whispers and cries of surprise that greeted him. Except one.

"Harry," whispered Draco quietly, but so close that Harry heard him anyway, and though he did not take his eyes from Voldemort, he smiled.

It was easy, then, the entire pattern laid out for him, and it was Voldemort who was shocked at everything Harry said to him.

"Is it love again, Harry Potter? Dumbledore's great magic with powers beyond understanding? Will love save you from dying tonight? Did love save your friends?"

"Not all of them," said Harry, "but love saved Ginny and killed Bellatrix, and saved Draco and killed Greyback, the same as it would have killed you and saved me the first time if you hadn't had your Horcruxes. But they're gone, Riddle. They're all gone. It's just us."

"You dare to call me that?" Voldemort sounded beyond comprehension.

"Love gave me the strength to go to the forest tonight and hand myself over," said Harry, "and it laid the same protection over all these people that my mother gave me. I died for them, and you can't touch them."

"But you aren't dead!" Voldemort screeched. "And I, I have the Elder Wand!"

"But it wasn't yours, it never was. You haven't won it from its last owner."

"Oh, but you're wrong, Potter," hissed Voldemort. "I killed Severus Snape, who killed Dumbledore."

"Snape didn't beat Dumbledore. They arranged his death together. That isn't defeat, not to a wand."

"Then the wand belongs to no one. And you no longer carry your phoenix wand. We duel, Harry Potter, on skill."

"Wrong," said Harry. "Nobody killed Dumbledore against his will. But someone took that wand away from him forcibly, before Snape could cast the curse. So the question is, does that wand in your hand recognize disarming as defeat? Because, if it does, then," Harry swallowed. "I am the master of the Elder Wand."

This was it. This was the moment, the final test. Harry and Voldemort each raised a wand to the air and shouted their choice of spell.

The two spells hit and rebounded, and the Elder Wand flew out of Voldemort's hand, somersaulting end over end toward Harry, who stretched out a hand and caught it, as the bolt of green light hit Voldemort full in the chest and he collapsed.

There was silence for a moment, and then the Great Hall exploded with sound, with people running up to hug him and scream and dance on the spot. Ron and Hermione were hugging him, and just as it was becoming too much, as the full weight of the past couple of days was catching up to him and he felt like falling to his knees there amongst them all, a pair of arms more familiar than the rest were holding him, and Harry was staring into Draco's eyes as though there was nobody else in the world. Draco kissed him lightly, and it was enough. Harry could stay up, could stand to pay his respects to the dead and hold the grieving and visit the injured.

And finally, when he had taken Ron and Hermione to visit Dumbledore's portrait and told them everything they had missed, the feeling of owing people his time and explanations lifted, and he walked up to Gryffindor tower and the bed that would have been his.

He was trying to work up the energy to call Kreacher for a sandwich when the door opened and Draco came in carrying a tray. He set it on the beside table and climbed in beside Harry, lifting Harry's torso bodily from the mattress and sliding under him so that Harry could relax against his chest. Draco picked up the bowl of soup on the tray, but instead of handing it to Harry, he scooped up a bite and poked it at Harry's lips. Harry obligingly ate the spoonful, but after swallowing it, he complained, "You know, I don't need you to spoon-feed me. I'm not an infant."

"I know," whispered Draco. "You are so far from an infant. You are an absolutely amazing man. You've been taking care of everyone else for so long. And now it's my turn to take care of you."

"Your parents will want to be with you," said Harry, resolve fading fast.

"They're rather smothering me, to be honest," said Draco. "I've told them I need to be with you now, and they'll just have to put up with it until tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere." He took a bite of soup for himself and scooped up another bite for Harry. "Now, are you going to eat this?"

"After you?"

"Now you're just being obstinate. You've had rather more of my saliva than this in your mouth."

Harry laughed tiredly and allowed Draco to feed him half the soup, closing his eyes and just lying there. Finally, as he was drifting off, he felt a flask being held to his lips, and he drank obligingly. Without opening his eyes, he recognized the taste of Dreamless Sleep. He felt Draco scoot them both to a lying down position, and then all was blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really the only thing that I loved about the originals that I couldn't make carry over is Narcissa saving Harry in the Forest, but she got a good lot anyway, eh?


	17. Epilogue

One Year Later

Draco found Harry sitting against a tree outside Grimmauld Place.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

Harry sighed gustily, but didn't answer. Draco sat down next to him and stared off in the same direction and waited.

"Andromeda seems so tired all the time. And she already raised Tonks, she must have thought she was done raising children. And no Ted to help her."

Draco said nothing.

"So I was trying to decide whether we should, y'know, take him ourselves."

"You mean, adopt him?" asked Draco softly.

Harry nodded. "And I keep thinking I should discuss it with you, and then I think maybe I should know if I even like the idea first, and then I think maybe Andromeda doesn't want to give him up, since she's got no one else. And how do you go asking someone if you can adopt their grandson, anyway? I'm so confused."

Draco nodded and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, and Draco kissed him on the forehead.

They sat there until the sun started going down, and a bright flash of light caught Draco's attention.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"There!"

The light came again, and Harry laughed.

"It's a firefly."

More fireflies lit up around them, and now Draco could see they were insects.

"How do they do that?"

"No idea."

As the sky grew darker, more and more fireflies lit up around them, and the two men sat and watched them, delighted.

"This is amazing," Harry finally breathed, breaking the spell. Draco was grateful. He'd been torn between staying silent and actually doing what he'd come out to do in the first place. He pulled Harry to his feet and knelt down.

"Draco." It wasn't a question. Harry knew what he was about to do.

Draco fished in his pocket and pulled out a small box, flicking open the top. Inside lay a simple silver band.

"Gold is for wedding rings," Draco said simply.

"I'm pretty sure I've got this right," said Harry, "but you are asking me to marry you, right?"

Draco grinned.

"Harry Potter, I love you more than anything. You are my world. Will you stand with me forever as one family?" He paused. "In other words, yes, will you marry me?"

"Yes," said Harry, hardly able to speak around the size of his grin. "Stand with you, sit with you, lie with you…forever, I like the sound of that. A lot, actually."

Draco slid the silver ring on Harry's finger and stood up.

"Yes," he said, and Harry kissed him. Draco let him, but after a moment, he pulled back and repeated himself. "Yes."

"Yes what?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I want to adopt Teddy. Slowly, though. Why don't we just start offering to keep him for afternoons so Andromeda can have some time to herself? And then we can graduate to a few days at a time. That way we'll know if and when we're even ready to handle him full-time."

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" said Harry.

"Yes," admitted Draco, "but I haven't gotten tired of it yet."

 

Two Years Later

"Are you ever planning on actually getting married, Harry?" asked Hermione exasperatedly. Harry looked up. She'd caught him staring at his engagement ring again. Even having worn it for a year, it still sometimes caught his eye and surprised him all over again.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, we sort of haven't gotten around to it."

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm starting to hear whispers that you're putting it off because you've been having problems. I think you just don't want to be the couple that gets married right out of school."

"Problems? Who'd you hear that from?" Harry asked, sitting up straight.

"No one who actually knows you, so calm down. Idiot gossipers. Anyway, you might want to start at least discussing it with Draco. And Ginny would really appreciate it."

"Ginny?"

"Honestly, do you pay attention to anything? Molly's been hinting that Ginny and Oliver might get married, and it's way too soon, so it's scaring him. If she has you to fuss over, she might give them a bit of space."

"I think she'd just start calling me a good example," muttered Harry, but he'd already agreed with Hermione in his mind, and she seemed to know that, because she dropped the subject.

 

Three Years Later

"Come on, Teds, time to go home with Grandma," said Harry coaxingly.

"Don't wanna!" Teddy's hair turned black, either to match his mood or to match Harry's hair, Harry wasn't sure.

"She misses you. She hasn't had you around for a whole month," said Harry.

"Up you go, Teddy," said Draco, coming up behind him, picking up Teddy, and handing the three-year-old to Andromeda.

"No! No! Wanna stay with Papa and Daddy!" screeched Teddy as Andromeda walked to the magic carpet and got on. She looked back at them, smiling, but somewhat sadly.

"Andromeda," said Harry suddenly, "if at some point it becomes too much—" He broke off, suddenly feeling horribly as though he'd overstepped a line. Draco saved him.

"We wouldn't say no to keeping him full-time. If you ever needed us to."

Andromeda only nodded, but somehow Harry felt as though it was a major step.

 

Five Years Later

"Harry, do you want kids?" asked Draco suddenly.

"Is this really the best place to discuss this?" asked Harry, surprised, putting down his champagne.

"I just thought of it," said Draco. "All these happy couples. All talking about kids."

"Who's all? I haven't heard any talking about kids."

"Well, you've been talking to the men. I, as your wife, have been talking to the women. Fleur has kids. Angelina has kids. Hermione wants kids. Luna wants kids, at least as much as she wants anything. Ginny's the only one who hasn't considered it, and that's only because she's got no idea whether she wants to stay with Chang or go back to Wood."

"First of all, you're not my wife, that's absurd," said Harry. "Second, what about Audrey? We are at her wedding."

"That's what we were discussing. Whether she and Percy will have kids. And she wasn't there, she was greeting guests."

"That's just like—people," said Harry, just managing not to say 'women'. "Discussing other people's reproduction while they're not even there."

"You're not answering the question. Do you?"

"Harry!" hollered Angelina as Ron sat down. "Your toast!"

"Oh, Merlin's pants," said Harry, standing and raising his champagne.

"Percy, first of all, can I say I think you're mad, having all these people give toasts at your wedding! But I am honored that you consider me to be one of your brothers. I'm proud to consider you one of mine, and I'm sure my wife—" He just managed not to curse out loud. "My husband, Draco, would stand with me in saying our lives would not be the same without you around, and we're delighted that you've found such a wonderful woman in Audrey, and we wish you many years of happiness and as many children as you want. If you want them. Thank you."

He sat down amid gales of laughter and applause and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm blaming you for this," he muttered at Draco, who had tears streaming down his cheeks from laughing.

"Well, I don't know how to follow that," said Ginny, standing, "and I'm not even sure why Harry got put in front of me, as he's neither my elder brother nor a better speaker. Only girl status, that's what it is, I'm telling you! Anyway, you're a lovely couple, I wish you all the best, and congratulations on your good sense in waiting a few years before getting married. Goodness knows it's a good thing I didn't marry Oliver after two years."

Laughter.

"But then my elder brother has always been more practical about these things. Love you!" Ginny blew a kiss and sat down again. Once conversation had resumed, she made her way over to them.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Now they'll all be talking about the youngest and only remaining uncommitted Weasley flaunting her promiscuous ways instead of poor Harry Potter and his Freudian slip."

"How do you even know what a Freudian slip is?"

"Hermione." Ginny shrugged and did not elaborate. "Let me guess, Draco brought up kids? It seems to be the subject of the hour."

"Mmm." Harry answered. "How would we even do that? We've got Teddy, but I was under the impression you weren't talking about adopting."

"You'd need a surrogate," answered Ginny.

"You're the only woman close enough to us and not yet too firmly attached to someone else to do it," said Draco bluntly. Ginny's eyebrows shot up.

"Why, Draco, I never dreamed you'd actually ask that!"

He arched a single eyebrow and leveled a look at her. Harry buried his face in his hands again.

"Can we please all stop talking about children?" he grumbled.

A couple of days later, he received a letter from Ginny that said simply, "I'd do it, if you wanted me to. As long as I could be in their lives."

A couple of days after that, Draco sent a letter back that said, "If you're still amenable, we'll take you up on it. I've talked Harry into the idea."

 

Six Years Later

"I can't believe I ever hesitated when you asked me if I wanted this, even if it was at Percy's wedding," said Harry, cradling his newborn son in his arms. "He's perfect."

"What should we call him?" asked Draco, hovering over his shoulder.

"I was, thinking about, well, James," said Harry, somewhat nervously. "But I'm not settled. What about you? Did you have any ideas?"

Draco kissed him on the cheek before answering, "Well, Blacks traditionally have star names. I was thinking Scorpius."

"James Scorpius? Scorpius James?" muttered Harry.

"Scorpius James sounds ridiculous," said Ginny from the bed. "What about Sirius?"

"That's a star name, all right," agreed Draco.

"That's my godfather's name," said Harry softly. "And he was a Black." Never had it hit him so forcefully that by marriage to Draco, he was now related to Sirius.

"Sirius James Malfoy it is," said Draco.

"What makes you so sure he's a Malfoy?" asked Harry, beaming.

"See that pointy chin? That's a Malfoy chin, beyond a doubt," said Draco, smiling.

 

Seven Years Later

"This one's a Potter, all right," said Ginny, cuddling their second child to her chest. "And you can just give me a moment with the baby I've been carrying for three-quarters of a year!" she said when Harry tried to come closer. Chastised, he sat on the bed at her feet with Draco.

"So, any ideas?" she asked them finally. "Or did you actually figure out a name before the birth?"

The two men shared a grin.

"What is it, then? Leo?"

"The Lion? Ginny, I'm shocked that you would think I could so easily condemn my child to Gryffindor," said Draco reprovingly. She grinned.

"Aries, then? Or have you let Harry name him?"

"He didn't get a star name," said Draco, "so in that sense, I let Harry name him. But we worked it out together. Though Aries is a good name…"

"Oh, shut up. We finally agreed on one," said Harry. "He's going to be Albus. Severus as a middle name."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "All right. Though I wish I could see Snape's face if he ever found out you named a child after him."

"Albus means light, so it's close enough," said Draco. "And, honestly, I refused to subject any more children to the indignity of having Severus as a first name. We'll call him Al, and it'll be fine. Or possibly Harry will call him Al, and I'll call him Aries."

Harry whacked him in the back of the head.

"Now, I'm certainly not going to let you hold him if you act like that," said Ginny, and they immediately sat up properly again. "Albus Severus Potter. He'll have a lot to live up to. Now one of you go get your other children out of the waiting room so they can meet their brother."

 

Eight Years Later

"I am never doing this again! Four children is enough for anybody!" panted Ginny. "Out! Out!"

Harry and Draco silently gathered their children and slipped out of the door. Al pulled at a lock of Harry's hair, while Sirius toddled around Draco's feet, herded along by Teddy.

"Umma umma jemma baby," said Sirius.

"That's right, baby," said Teddy.

"Jemma baby now now," added Sirius.

"What's a jemma baby?" asked Draco tiredly.

"Jemma jemma niiiiiiightytime," finished Sirius, and flopped over on Draco's feet for a nap. Teddy sat down beside him and stroked the blonde hair out of his eyes, turning his own blonde in the process.

"Gemini?" asked Draco, looking surprised. "Does he know that's the constellation of the twins?"

"Arrrwoo," agreed Al, trying to poke Harry in the eye.

"Stop that, Al. Eyes not for touching," said Harry in the tones of someone who has had this conversation before.

"He doesn't know, he can't see," said Draco. Teddy stood and held out his arms for Al, and Harry carefully handed him over.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"He's got the same exact color and shape of your eyes. Why wouldn't he have the same defects as well?" Draco pulled out his wand and levitated one of the chairs close enough that he could sit down without disturbing Sirius. Harry smiled.

"The things we do for our children."

"And our own sanity. Remember last time we woke him up before he was ready?"

"Mmm. Perhaps Ginny's right."

"I think five children is just perfect," said Draco. "Good thing we have five."

Teddy started softly singing a lullaby to the babies. Draco and Harry lapsed into silence. Al fell asleep in Teddy's lap. The family sat quietly, waiting. Eventually, Sirius woke up, and Draco picked up the yawning toddler.

The door opening made everybody jump. Al woke up very suddenly and said, "Elephants!" clearly.

Oliver Wood stood in the door, looking as tired as they were. He hadn't had to deal with three needy children, thought Harry, but then again, he had been in charge of holding Ginny's hand as she gave birth. He smiled at the Potter-Malfoys.

"You are now the parents of two lovely daughters," he announced. The family filed through the door behind him, to find an exhausted Ginny nursing one baby and cradling the other in the crook of an arm.

"What are you going to call them?" asked Oliver.

"One is Lily and the other is Lyra," said Harry, but Draco shook his head.

"I think Lyra should be Narcissa," he said. "If that's all right, Harry?" Harry was taken aback.

"Of course," he said. "I thought you wanted the star name. And they're both Ls…"

"This way, they're both flowers," said Draco. "And Sirius has a point. As a pair, they are Gemini, which is star enough for me."

"I like Lyra," said Ginny. "Keep it as a middle name. And the other shall have Ginevra."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I've now given birth to four children for you, two of them at once," said Ginny. "I reserve the right to name one after myself."

"Fair's fair," said Harry diplomatically, locking eyes with Draco to be sure he didn't really mind. "Narcissa Ginevra and Lily Lyra? Or Narcissa Lyra and Lily Ginevra?"

"I like them both," said Draco.

"I think the first," said Harry. "Flows better. Even if it is odd that your daughter should be named after a Weasley and mine after a star."

"Hey, mate, even if each of you picked a name, they're both still both your daughters!" said Oliver.

"We know," said Harry. "And biologically, there isn't much change of having one each, is there?"

"Actually," said Ginny, "I think that's exactly what happened."

"Really?" the adults all said more or less simultaneously.

"Mm-hm. This one has tufts of Malfoy hair, and this one has Harry's nose."

"You're right," proclaimed Draco. "Welcome to the family, Gemini."

 

Eleven Years Later

"Grandma, Papa, Dad, I'll be fine," said Teddy. All of his parents were trying unsuccessfully not to cry.

"I can't believe you're going off to Hogwarts," said Harry. "It seems way too soon."

Teddy's hair flickered quickly between red, green, bright yellow, and blue, and Harry knew that as much as his son—his godson—his Teddy professed calmness, he was still thinking about what House he'd be in.

"I'd better get going," said Teddy, and he knelt and gave each of his siblings a hug. "Don't drive our parents mad, all right, Siri? Don't let Siri tease you too much, Al. Be nice to your brothers, Cissy. Make her be nice if you have to, Lils. Love you, everyone." And, with a wave and a smile, he left for the carriages.

"What house do you think he will be in?" asked Draco.

"He's levelheaded, intelligent, calm, nice, and loves to learn," said Harry. "Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. And you know what? That's fine."

"Want ice cream!" said Narcissa.

"I don't know why Teddy talks to them like they understand right and wrong," said Draco. "They're three."

"I'm just glad he does," said Harry, "even if it doesn't help now, because it means he won't blow them off as too young to understand things later."

"I want ice cream, too!" said Sirius, and the rest joined in.

"Harry, I want ice cream," said Draco, making puppy eyes at him, and Harry laughed.

"Fine. Ice cream. We'll go for ice cream."

 

Eighteen Years Later

"I won't! I won't be in Slytherin!"

"Well, you never know," Teddy teased gently.

"I don't want to be with Sirius!"

"Al, I'm crushed!" said Sirius, clapping a hand to his heart.

"How can you not want to be with Sirius?" demanded Cissa.

"We're going to be alone, and we hate it!" the twins chorused in unison.

"You two couldn't ever be alone, even if you were sorted into different Houses," said Harry.

They gasped.

"Different Houses?"

"The hat wouldn't!"

Harry pulled into a spot at King's Cross and trundled his family out of the car, trunks, owls and all.

"Scorpius! Aries! Gemini! Fall in!" proclaimed Draco, and Harry whacked him on the back of the head.

They moved down the platforms and, one at a time, slipped through the boundary between platforms 9 and 10.

"I'm just going to go and see Victoire…" Teddy slipped off into the crowd, hair darkening to black.

"Why d'you like Victoire? She's a girl!" hollered Sirius after him.

"And why's your hair always black when you see her?" demanded Al.

"He thinks it makes him look hot," Draco answered. "I think he's got poor taste, honestly. Everyone knows blonde is the most attractive hair color."

Sirius preened, but Harry said quietly, "That doesn't say anything about your taste, does it, Draco?" with a grin, and Al burst into silent giggles.

"Stop being gross!" yelled Cissa, but then she brightened. "Mum! Over here!"

Ginny dodged a runaway cat and came over to hug her children.

"Where's your brother?" she asked Al, but Sirius answered.

"Off with Victoire." Ginny smiled.

"How's Wood?" inquired Draco solicitously.

"We're buying a house together," replied Ginny, and the girls squealed.

"Are you getting married, Mum?"

"Not yet, dears." Ginny stroked their hair. "But if I ever do, I promise you'll both be my bridesmaids."

As the girls excitedly began planning their dresses, and Sirius dashed off toward the train, Al shot his father a worried look. Teddy emerged from the fog, and Harry knelt down beside his son.

"You want to be in Gryffindor?"

Al nodded.

"Then we'll look for your owl telling us you're in Gryffindor," said Teddy firmly.

"Really?" Al's eyes shone.

"It worked for me," Harry told him.

Al grinned brightly.

"Love you, Dad." He ran to climb on the train, and his family crowded around the open door, calling out last-minute reminders, well wishes, and orders to behave and write often.

 

Twenty Years Later

Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione led a troop of young wizards out into the parking lot, ready to begin summer vacation.

"Scorpius! Come get your owl!" yelled Draco.

"Why does your dad call you that?" asked Lorcan Scamander curiously.

"Papa? To piss off Dad, I think, but they've never explained it," said Sirius. "We've all got more names than we can handle."

"Mum?" asked Lily. "Who're you dating now?"

"Colin Creevey," said Ginny, looking bewildered. "Don't ask, I don't know quite how that happened."

"Cissa and Lily get used to being separated?" asked Ron quietly.

"They've done admirably, I think," said Draco.

"Between them, Sirius, Al, and Rose, they seem to have created this massive inter-House cooperation thing," said Harry. "They're all so close they can't stand to be split up too often. It's like the DA, only all the time, and with many more Slytherins."

"Could hardly do anything else," said Draco. "Cissa could never be in Gryffindor, and Lily could never be in Slytherin. And yet they're too attached at the hip to just grow apart."

"Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were a bit reluctant," piped in Rose. "But I refuse to be the only one of the family not regularly hanging out with all the rest. And I reminded Hufflepuff that Teddy came from their house, and they're a friendly lot by nature, so it didn't take too much convincing."

"I'm glad to have you all back," said Harry with feeling. "I've missed you all so much."

"Yes, it's been far too quiet in the house," said Draco. "I can't imagine what Molly Weasley did."

"Remember when you had to talk me into having kids?" said Harry quietly. "What an idiot I was for protesting."

"Remember when Hermione had to talk you into marrying me?" Draco returned. "You _were_ an idiot."

"Remember when you kissed me for the first time?"

"Remember when you disarmed me in the bathroom?"

Harry thought about it.

"If you hadn't dropped your wand," he said slowly, "we wouldn't have any of this."

Draco stared at him.

"One slip," he said. "One slip. And we have all this. Without that tiny slip, who knows what our lives would be like?"


End file.
